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WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES, 


PAST  AND  PRESENT.^ 


A STUDY  OF  THE  ENGLISH  LANGUAGE.  . 


BY 

RICHARD  GRANT  WHITE. 


SEVENTH  EDITION,  DEVISED  AND  CORRECTED, 


BOSTON: 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY. 
1884 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870, 

. "By  RICHARD  GRANT  WHITE, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Stereotyped 


T THE  Boston  Stereotype  Foundry, 
No.  19  Spring  Lane. 


6-^vf  5 yiUL^] 


</ 7 


AFTERTHOUGHTS  AND  FOREWORDS 

TO  THE  PRESENT  EDITION. 


IN  preparing  a new  edition  of  this  book  I have  sought 
help  and  taken  hints  from  every  criticism  of  it  that  I 
have  seen  ; and  I heard  of  none  that  I did  not  try  to  find  if 
it  was  not  at  hand.  Whoever  attempts  to  correct  the  faults 
of  others  in  any  respect,  may  expect  severe  treatment  at  the 
hands  of  the  very  men  whom  he  would  serve ; and  if  his 
efforts  are  directed  to  their  use  of  language,  he  may  reason- 
ably look  forward  to  walking,  sitting,  and  sleejDing  upon  pen- 
points  for  a while.  Wherefore  I have  been  very  pleasantly 
surprised  that  of  the  much  that  has  been  written  about  this 
book,  so  little,  comparatively,  was  disparaging.  In  only  one 
quarter  have  I found  reason  to  complain  of  unfairness,  or 
even  of  a captious  spirit,  while  the  general  tone  of  my 
critics,  public  and  private,  has  been  that  of  thankfulness 
for  a real  service.  But  I have  tried  no't  to  allow  myself  to 
be  led  by  the  favorable  judgement  of  my  critics  into  the 
belief  that  I could  disregard  the  strictures  of  my  censors. 

In  many  passages  of  the  book  slight  changes  have  been 
made ; upon  matters  of  fact  and  of  opinion  a few  important 
modifications  will  be  found  ; one  new  chapter  has  been 
added.  The  sum  of  these  alterations  and  corrections  will, 
I hope,  be  regarded  as  such  an  imjDrovement  of  the  book  as 
will  make  it  more  worthy  of  the  attention  which  it  has  re* 
ceived.  The  most  of  these  changes  would  have  been  made 


ii 


AFTERTHOUGHTS 


of  my  own  motion  ; but  for  some  of  them  my  readers  are 
indebted  to  the  suggestions  of  others. 

To  the  strictures  of  my  censors  I have  not  replied,  either 
n general  or  in  detail,  preferring  to  regard  them  rather  as 
instructors  than  even  as  enemies  by  whom  fas  est  doceri. 
As  to  whether  my  book  has  any  value,  let  time  determine. 
If  what  I have  written  cannot  bear  criticism,  it  is  worthless 
and  ought  to  die.  It  will  soon  disappear  into  the  limbo  of 
things  forgotten ; and  the  less  that  is  said  about  it  the 
better.  Any  disparagement  of  the  “ scholarship  ” of  the 
book  gives  me  little  concern.  It  is  altogether  from  the 
purpose.  Whatever  value  I hoped  these  desultory  studies 
would  have,  depends  in  the  least  that  is  possible  upon  the 
learning,  real  or  supposed,  of  the  author.  If  I have  any 
reputation  of  that  sort,  it  is  not  of  my  seeking.  Nor  do  I 
claim  the  consideration  due  to  a philologist.  For  a real 
philologist  is  a man  who,  horsed  upon  Grimm’s  law,  chases 
the  evasive  syllable  over  umlauts  and  ablauts  into  the  faintly 
echoing  recesses  of  the  Himalayas  ; and  I confess  that  I am  no 
such  linguistic  Nimrod.  I have  joined  a little  in  that  hunt ; 
but  like  the  Frenchman  who,  after  one  day  of  “/<?  sport” 
upon  the  soil  of  perfide  Albion^  being  summoned  next  morn- 
ing for  another  run,  cried  “ Vot,  do  they  make  him  two 
times?”  and  turned  his  aching  bones  to  rest,  I soon  retired, 
and  left  the  field  to  bolder  spirits  and  harder  riders.  This 
is  said  now  because,  having  been  said  before,  I have  been 
judged  as  if  I had  made  the  pretensions  which  were  then 
and  which  are  now  again  disclaimed.  I therefore  repeat 
from  the  preface  of  the  previous  edition  that  “ the  po'nts 
from  which  I have  regarded  words  are  in  general  rather 
those  of  taste  and  reason  than  of  history ; and  my  discus- 
sions are  philological  only  as  all  study  of  words  must  be 


AND  FOREWORDS. 


iii 


philological.  The  few  suggestions  which  I have  made  in 
etymology  I put  forth  with  no  affectation  of  timidity,  but 
with  little  concern  as  to  their  fate.”  • It  is  upon  this  ground, 
humbler  or  higher,  that  in  good  faith  I take  my  stand,  and 
it  is  only  this  that  I profess  to  be  able  to  maintain. 

Besides  the  topics  of  taste  and  reason  in  the  use  of  lan- 
guage, there  are  two  to  which  I have  ventured  direct  atten- 
tion. Upon  one  of  these  my  position  (as  to  which  I have 
no  vague  notion,  but  a settled  conviction)  is  that  in  the  devel- 
opment of  language,  and  in  particular  of  the  English  lan- 
guage, reason  always  wins  against  formal  grammar  or  illog- 
ical usage,  and  that  the  “ authority  ” of  eminent  writers, 
conforming  to,  or  forming,  the  usage  of  their  day,  while  it 
does  absolve  from  the  charge  of  solecism  those  who  follow 
such  example,  does  not  completely  justify  or  establish  a use 
of  words  inconsistent  with  reason,  or  out  of  the  direction  of 
the  normal  growth  of  language.  In  other  words,  I believe, 
assert,  and  endeavor  to  maintain  that  in  language,  as  in 
morals,  there  is  a higher  law  than  mere  usage,  which,  in 
morals  as  in  language,  makes  that  acceptable,  tolerable, 
and  even  proper  in  one  age,  which  becomes  intolerable  and 
improper  in  another ; that  this  law  is  the  law  of  reason, 
toward  a conformity  to  which  usage  itself  is  always  strug- 
gling, and,  although  constantly  hindered  and  often  diverted, 
winning  its  way,  little  by  little,  not  reaching,  yet  ever  near- 
ing an  ever-receding  goal.  To  assault  any  position  of 
mine,  which  is  not  itself  taken  upon  the  ground  of  usage,  by 
bringing  up  the  “ authority,”  that  is  the  mere  example,  of 
eminent  writers,  is  at  once  to  beg  the  question  at  issue.  It 
may  be  said,  and  is  said,  that  in  language  usage  is  both  ir 
fact  and  of  right  the  final  law  and  the  ground  of  law.  But 
with  any  one  who  takes  that  for  granted  I cannot  argue.  We 


\v 


AFTERTHOUGHTS 


do  not  approach  each  other  near  enough  for  collision.  We 
are  as  widely  separated  as  two  theological  disputants  would 
be,  one  of  whom  was  a Protestant,  and  the  other  a Papist 
who  set  up  as  an  axiom  the  divine  establishment  and  per- 
petual infallibility  of  the  Romish  Church.  He  assumes  and 
starts  from  the  very  point  that  I dispute. 

That  language  has  in  all  respects  a normal  growth,  and 
that  passing  deviations  from  that  normality  are  not  to  be 
defended  and  accepted  without  question  on  the  ground  that 
mere  eminent  usage  justifies  such  irregularities,  I do  verily 
believe.  And  upon  this  point  of  so-called  irregularity,  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  remarks  made  by  Helfenstein  in  the 
introduction  to  his  examination  of  the  anomalous  verbs,  are 
of  even  wider  application  : 

‘‘  Under  this  head  we  range  all  those  verbs  which  in  their 
inflexional  forms  show  certain  peculiarities  so  as  to  require 
separate  treatment  as  a class  of  their  own.  We  avoid  the 
term  irregular,  for  it  is  high  time  that  this  designation, 
which  cannot  but  convey  erroneous  notions,  should  disap- 
pear from  the  terminology  of  grammarians.  There  is  noth- 
ing irregular  in  these  verbs,  and  nothing  irregular  in  lan- 
guage generally.  Every  phenomenon  is  founded  upon  a 
law ; it  is  not  the  product  of  haphazard  or  of  an  arbitrary 
will.  Where  the  law  has  not  yet  been  discovered,  it  remains 
the  noblest  task  of  linguists  to  strive  after  its  discovery  and 
elucidation.  What  as  yet  evades  explanation  may  be  left 
standing  over  as  a fact  which  is  sure  to  find  some  day  suffi- 
cient illustration  from  other  corollary  facts  grouped  around. 
But  we  must  do  away  once  and  for  all  with  all  notions  of 
irregularity,  and  therefore  drop  the  term  which  keeps  such 
notions  alive.” — Comparative  Gra7nmar  of  the  Teutonic  Lan^ 
Zuages,  p.  499. 


AND  FOREWORDS. 


V 


I cannot  believe  that  the  arbitrary  and  capricious  usage 
of  a clique  or  a mere  generation  of  writers  is  such  a “ phe 
nomenon  ” as  Helfenstein  regards  as  “ founded  upon  a law, 
when  he  declares  that  there  is  nothing  irregular  in  language 
generally. 

And  as  to* the  weight  of  authority  which  is  claimed  for 
eminent  writers,  I cannot  see  why  the  endowment  of  cre- 
ative genius  should,  or  that  it  does,  insure  to  its  possessor 
a greater  certainty  of  correctness  in  the  use  of  language 
than  may  go  with  the  possession  of  inferior  powers.  To 
admit  that  would  oblige  us  to  accept  Chaucer  as  a higher 
authority  than  Gower,  Spenser  as  higher  than  Sidney,  Lyly 
than  Ascham,  Shakespeare  than  Jonson,  Pope  than  Addh 
son,  Scott  than  Hallam,  Byron  than  Southey,  Carlyle  than 
Landor  or  Macaulay,  Dickens  than  Helps. 

Upon  the  second  of  the  topics  to  which  I have  referred, 
that  English  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a grammarless 
tongue,  and  therefore  has  a superiority  over  all  others,  I 
shall  let  what  I have  said  stand  without  further  argument, 
only  calling  to  my  support  this  passage  from  Sidney’s 
“ Apologie  for  Poetrie,”  which  when  I wrote  before  I had 
utterly  forgotten.  Speaking  of  English,  he  says  : 

“ I know  some  will  say  it  is  a mingled  language.  And 
why  not  so  much  the  better,  taking  the  best  of  both  the 
other  ? Another  will  say  that  it  wanteth  Grammer.  Nay 
truly  it  hath  that  praise  that  it  wanteth  not  [/.  e.,  does  not 
need]  Grammer  : for  Grammer  it  might  have,  but  it  needes 
it  not ; being  so  easie  of  it  selfe,  and  so  voyd  of  those  cum- 
bersome differences  of  Cases,  Genders,  Moodes,  and  Tenses, 
which  I think  was  a peece  of  the  Tower  of  Babilon’s  curse, 
that  a man  should  be  put  to  schoole  to  learne  his  mother 
tongue.  But  for  the  uttering  sweetly  and  properly  the  con- 


vl 


AFTERTHOUGHTS 


celts  of  the  minde,  which  is  the  end  of  speech,  that  hath  it 
equally  with  any  other  tongue  in  the  world  : and  is  parti* 
culerly  happy  in  compositions  of  two  or  three  words  togethei 
neere  the  Greeke,  far  beyond  the  Latine  : which  is  one  of 
the  greatest  beauties  can  be  in  a language.” 

What  Sidney  saw,  and  thus  with  sweet  dogmatism  set 
forth,  I have  but  endeavored  to  illustrate  and  to  establish. 

Why  I have  been  called  upon  to  write  this  book  is  still 
not  easy  for  me  to  understand.  For  it  is  the  result  of 
questions  submitted  to  me  from  correspondents  in  all  parts 
of  the  country  upon  the  subject  of  which  it  treats,  although 
I can  hardly  pretend  to  have  made  a special  study  of  lan- 
guage— nc  other,  in  fact,  than  was  part  and  parcel  of 
studies  in  English  literature  generally,  and  particularly  that 
of  the  Elizabethan  period.  But  as  these  questions  were 
speered  at  me,  I thought  it  would  be  pleasant  and  profitable 
to  answer  them  in  the  articles  which  have  been  gathered  into 
this  volume.  Let  me  say  to  my  correspondents  and  readers 
-that  if  any  of  them  hope  to  acquire  a good  style,  or  to 
‘ learn  to  write,”  by  reading  such  books  as  this,  or  even  by 
the  study  of  grammar  and  rhetoric,  as  I have  reason  to  fear 
that  some  of  them  do,  they  will  be  grievously  disappointed. 
That  acquisition  comes  only  through  native  ability  and  gen- 
eral culture.  No  man  ever  learned  to  win  the  ear  of  the 
public  by  studies  of  this  nature.  Those  who  write  what  is 
read  with  pleasure  and  profit,  do  not  get  their  power  or 
learn  their  craft  from  dictionaries,  grammars,  or  books  on 
rhetoric.  The  study  of  language  must  be  pursued  for  its 
own  sake.  It  has  only  a place,  although  a high  one,  in  that 
general  culture  which  gives  mental  discipline  and  makes  the 
accomplished  man.  He  who  cannot  write  with  clearness 
and  force  without  troubling  his  soul  about  pronouns  and 


AND  FOREWORDS. 


vii 


prepositions,  syntax  and  definitions,  may  better  change  his 
pen  for  a hoe  and  his  inkstand  for  a watering-pot,  and  give 
his  days  and  nights  to  market-gardening ; an  occupation 
equally  honorable  with  literature,  and,  I can  assure  him,  far 
more  profitable,  no  less  to  the  world  at  large  than  to  the 
individual.  With  which  counsel  I bid  my  readers  farewell. 


I'-' 


„■  I ' 


To  James  Russell  Lowell. 


My  dear  Sir  : 

When  your  forefather  met  mine,  as  he  probably  did,  some 
two  hundred  and  thirty  or  forty  years  ago,  in  the  newly  laid 
out  street  of  Cambridge  (and  there  is  reason  for  believing  that 
the  meeting  was  likely  to  be  about  where  Gore  Hall  now  stands), 
yours  might  have  been  somewhat  more  grimly  courteous  than 
he  doubtless  was,  had  he  known  that  he  saw  the  man  one  of 
whose  children  in  the  eighth  generation  was  to  pay  one  of  his, 
at  the  same  remove,  even  this  small  tribute  of  mere  words ; and 
mine  might  have  lost  some  of  his  reputation  for  inflexibility  had 
he  known  that  he  was  keeping  on  his  steeple-crown  before  him 
without  whom  there  would  be  no  “ Legend  of  Brittany,”  no 
“Sir  Launfal,”  no  “ Commemoration  Ode,”  no  “Cathedral,” 
no  “ Biglow  Papers,”  — without  whom  our  idea  of  the  New 
England  these  men  helped  to  found  would  lack,  in  these  latter 
days,  some  of  the  strength  and  the  beauty  which  make  it 
worthy  of  our  respect,  our  admiration,  and  our  love,  — and 
without  whom  the  great  school  that  was  soon  set  up  where 
they  were  standing,  to  be  the  first  and  ever  the  brightest  light 
of  learning  in  the  land,  would  miss  one^  of  its  most  shining 
ornaments. 

We  may  be  sure  that  both  these  honored  men  spoke  English 
in  the  strong  and  simple  manner  of  their  time,  of  which  you 
have  well  said  that  it  was  “ a diction  which  we  should  be  glad 
to  buy  back  from  desuetude  at  ‘almost  any  cost,”  and  which 

(i) 


TO  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 


you  have  done  so  much  to  illustrate,  to  perpetuate,  and  to  en- 
rich. I have  as  little  faith  as  I believe  you  have  in  the  worth 
of  a school-bred  language.  Strong,  clear,  healthy,  living 
speech  springs,  like  most  strong,  living  things,  from  the  soil, 
and  grows  according  to  the  law  of  life  within  its  seed.  But 
pruning  and  training  may  do  something  for  a nursery-bred 
weakling,  and  even  for  that  which  springs  up  unbidden,  and 
grows  with  native  vigor  into  sturdy  shapeliness.  It  is  because 
you  have  shown  this  in  a manner  which  makes  all  men  of  New 
England  stock  your  debtors,  and  proud  of  their  indebtedness, 
that  at  the  beginning  of  a book  which  seeks  to  do  in  the  weak- 
ness of  precept  what  you  have  done  by  the  strength  of  example, 
I acknowledge,  in  so  far  as  I may  presume  to  do  so,  what  is 
owing  to  you  by  all  your  countrymen,  and  also  record  the 
high  respect  and  warm  regard  with  which  I am,  and  hope  ever 
to  be, 

Faithfully  your  friend, 

Richard  Grant  White, 


New  York,  August  3,  1870. 


(2) 


PREFACE. 


‘HE  following  pages  contain  the  substance  of  the 


X articles  which  appeared  in  The  Galaxy  in  the  years 
1867,  1868,  and  1869,  under  the  title  now  borne  b}" 
this  volume.  Some  changes  in  the  arrangement  of 
the  subjects  of  those  articles,  some  excisions,  and  a few 
additions,  have  been  made ; but  after  reading,  with  a 
willingness  to  learn,  nearly  all  the  criticisms  with  which 
I was  favored,  I have  found  reason  for  abandoning 
or  modifying  very  few  of  my  previously  expressed 
opinions. 

The  purpose  of  the  book  is  the  consideration  of  the 
right  use  and  the  abuse  of  words  and  idioms,  with  an 
occasional  examination  of  their  origin  and  their  history. 
It  is  occupied  almost  exclusively  with  the  correctness 
and  fitness  of  verbal  expression,  and  any  excursion  into 
higher  walks  of  philology  is  transient  and  incidental. 

Soon  after  taking  up  this  subject  I heard  a story 
of  a professor  at  Oxford,  who,  being  about  to  address 
a miscellaneous  audience  at  that  seat  of  learning,  illus- 
trated some  of  his  positions  by  quotations  in  the  original 
from  Arabic  writers.  A friend  venturing  to  hint  that  this 


3 


4 


PREFACE. 


might  be  caviare  to  his  audience,  he  replied,  “ O,  every- 
body knows  a little  Arabic.’’  Now,  I have  discovered 
that  everybody  does  not  know  a little  Arabic  ; and  more, 
that  there  are  men  all  around  me,  of  intelligence  and 
character,  who,  although  they  cannot  be  called  illiterate, 
— as  peasants  are  illiterate,  — know  so  very  little  of 
ihe  right  use  of  English,  that,  without  venturing  beyond 
•he  limits  of  my  own  yet  imperfect  knowledge  of  my 
mother  tongue,  I might  undertake  to  give  the  instruc- 
don  that  I find  many  of  them  not  only  need,  but 
desire. 

The  need  is  particularly  great  in  this  country ; of 
which  fact  I have  not  only  set  forth  the  reasons,  but 
have  endeavored  to  explain  them  with  such  detail  as 
would  enable  my  readers  to  see  them  for  themselves,  and 
take  them  to  heart,  instead  of  merely  accepting  or  reject- 
ing my  assertion.  Since  I first  gave  these  reasons  in  The 
Galaxy,  they  have  been  incidentally,  but  earnestly  and 
impressively,  presented  by  Professor  Whitney  in  his 
book  on  Language  and  the  Study  of  Language. 
Summing  up  his  judgment  on  this  point,  that  eminent 
philologist  says,  “ The  low-toned  party  newspaper  is 
too  much  the  type  of  the  prevailing  literary  influence 
by  which  the  style  of  speech  of  our  rising  generation 
is  moulding.  A tendency  to  slang,  to  colloquial  in- 
elegances, and  even  vulgarities,  is  the  besetting  sin 
against  which  we,  as  Americans,  have  especially  to 
guard  and  to  struggle.” 

What  Professor  Whitney  thus  succinctly  declares,  I 
have  endeavored  to  set  forth  at  large  and  to  illustrate. 
Usage  in  the  end  makes  language ; determining  not 


PREFACE. 


5 


only  the  meaning  of  words,  but  their  suggestiveness, 
and  also  their  influence.  For  the  influence  of  man 
upon  language  is  reciprocated  by  the  influence  of  lan- 
guage upon  man ; and  the  mental  tone  of  a community 
may  be  vitiated  by  a yielding  to  the  use  of  loose,  coarse,' 
low,  and  frivolous  phraseology.  Into  this  people  fall 
by  the  mere  thoughtless  imitation  of  slovenly  exem- 
plars. A case  in  point  — trifling  and  amusing,  but  not, 
therefore,  less  suggestive  — recently  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. Professor  Whitney  mentions,  as  one  of  his  many 
illustrations  of  the  historical  character  of  word-making, 
that  we  put  on  a “ pair  of  rubbers”  because,  when 
caoutchouc  was  first  brought  to  us,  we  could  find  no 
better  use  for  it  than  the  rubbing  out  of  pencil-marks. 
But  overshoes  of  this  material  are  not  universally  called 
“ rubbers.”  In  Philadelphia,  with  a reference  to  the 
nature  of  the  substance  of  which  they  are  made,  they 
are  called  “ gums.”  A Philadelphia  gentleman  and 
his  wife  going  to  make  a visit  at  a house  in  New 
York,  where  they  were  very  much  at  home,  he  entered 
the  parlor  alone  ; and  to  the  question,  “ Why,  where 
is  Emily.?*”  answered,  “ O,  Emily  is  outside  cleaning 
her  gums  upon  the  mat ; ” whereupon  there  was  a 
momentary  look  of  astonishment,  and  then  a peal  of 
laughter.  Now,  there  is  no  need  whatever  of  the  use 
of  either  of  the  poor  words  rubbers  or  g'ums  in  this 
sense.  The  proper  word  is  simply  overshoes^  which 
expresses  all  that  there  is  occasion  to  tell,  except  to 
a manufacturer  or  a salesman.  There  is  neither  neces- 
sity nor  propriety  in  our  going  into  the  question  of  the 
fabric  of  what  we  wear  for  the  protection  of  our  feet, 


6 


PREFACE. 


and  of  saying  that  a lady  is  either  rubbing  her  rubbei’s 
or  cleaning  her  gums  on  the  mat  ; no  more  than 
there  is  in  our  saying  that  a gentleman  is  brushing  his 
wool  (meaning  his  coat),  or  a lady  drying  her  eyes 
with  her  linen  (meaning  her  handkerchief).  Lan- 
guage is  generally  formed  by  indirect  and  unconscious 
effort ; but  when  a language  is  subjected  to  the  constant 
action  of  such  degrading  influences  as  those  which 
threaten  ours,  it  may  be  well  to  introduce  into  its  devel- 
opment a little  consciousness.  The  difference  between 
saying.  He  donated  the  balance  of  the  lumber,  and  He 
gave  the  rest  of  the  timber,  is  perhaps  trifling;  but  man’s 
language,  like  man  himself,  grows  by  a gradual  accre- 
tion of  trifles,  and  the  sum  of  these,  in  our  case,  is 
on  the  one  hand  good  English,  and  on  the  other  bad. 
Therefore  they  are  not  unworthy  of  any  man’s  serious 
attention. 

Language  is  rarely  corrupted,  and  is  often  enriched, 
by  the  simple,  unpretending,  ignorant  man,  who  takes 
no  thought  of  his  parts  of  speech.  It  is  from  the  man 
who  knows  just  enough  *to  be  anxious  to  square  his 
sentences  by  the  line  and  plummet  of  grammar  and 
dictionary  that  his  mother  tongue  sutlers  mo^t  grievous 
injury.  It  is  his  influence  chiefly  which  is  resisted  in 
this  book.  I have  little  hope,  I must  confess,  of  un- 
doing any  of  the  harm  that  he  has  done,  or  of  pluck- 
ing up  any  monstrosity  which,  planted  by  him,  has^  struck 
root  into  the  popular  speech  ; particularly  if  it  seems 
fine,  and  is  not  quite  understood  by  those  who  use  it. 

Transpire  diXiiS.  predicate — worthy  pair — will  be  used, 
I fear,  the  one  to  mean  happen,  and  the  other  found ; 


PREFACE. 


7 


things  will  continue  to  be  being  done^  and  the  gentle- 
manly barkeeper  of  the  period  will  call  his  grog-shop  a 
sample-room.,  notwithstanding  all  that  I have  said,  and 
all  that  abler  men  and  better  scholars  than  I am  may 
say,  to  the  contrary.  But,  although  I do  not  expect  to  ^ 
purge  away  corruption,  I do  hope  to  arrest  it  in  some 
measure  by  giving  hints  that  help  toward  wholesome- 
ness. 

This  book  may  possibly  correct  some  of  the  pre- 
vailing evils  against  which  it  is  directed ; but  I shall 
be  satisfied  if  it  awakens  an  attention  to  its  subject  that 
will  prevent  evil  in  the  future.  Scholars  and  philolo- 
gists need  not  be  told  that  it  is  not  addressed  to  them ; 
but  neither  is  it  written  for  the  unintelligent  and  entirely 
uninstructed.  It  is  intended  to  be  of  some  service  to 
intelligent,  thoughtful,  educated  persons,  who  are  in- 
terested in  the  study  of  the  English  language,  and  in 
the  protection  of  it  against  pedants  on  the  one  side  and 
coarse  libertines  in  language  on  the  other. 

On  the  etymology  of  words  I have  said  little,  because 
little  was  needed.  The  points  from  which  I have  re- 
garded words  are  in  general  rather  those  of  taste  and 
reason  than  of  history ; and  my  discussions  are  philo- 
logical only  as  all  study  of  words  must  be  philological. 
The  few  suggestions  which  I have  made  in  etymology 
I put  forth  with  no  affectation  of  timidity,  but  with 
little  concern  as  to  their  fate.  Etymology,  which,  as 
it  is  now  practised,  is  a product  of  the  last  thirty 
years,  fulfils  toward  language  the  function  which  the 
antiquarian  and  the  genealogist  discharge  in  the  making 
of  the  world’s  history.  The  etymologist  of  the  present  - 


8 


PREFACE. 


day  follows,  as  he  should  follow,  his  word  up  step  by 
step  through  the  written  records  of  past  years,  until 
he  finds  its  origin  in  the  fixed  form  of  a parent  language. 
The  disappearance  of  every  letter,  the  modification 
of  every  sound,  the  introduction  of  every  new  letter, 
must  be  accounted  for  in  accordance  with  the  analogy 
of  the  language  at  the  period  when  the  change,  real 
or  supposed,  took  place.  Thus  etymology  has  at  last 
been  placed  upon  its  only  safe  bases,  — research  and 
comparison,  — and  the  origin  of  most  words  in  modern 
languages  is  as  surely  determinable  as  that  of  a mem- 
ber of  any  family  which  has  a recorded  histoiy. 

I have  only  to  add  here  that  in  my  remarks  on  what 
I have  unavoidably  called,  by  way  of  distinction,  British 
English  and  “ American  ” English,  and  in  my  criticism 
of  the  style  of  some  eminent  British  authors,  no  insin- 
uation of  a superiority  in  the  use  of  their  mother  tongue 
by  men  of  English  race  in  “ America  ” is  intended,  no 
right  to  set  up  an  independent  standard  is  implied. 
Of  the  latter,  indeed,  there  is  no  fear.  When  that  new 
“ American  ” thing,  so  eagerly  sought,  and  hitherto 
so  vainly,  does  appear,  if  it  ever  do  appear,  it  will  not 
be  a language,  or  even  a literature. 


This  book  was  prepared  for  the  press  in  the  autumn  of  1869. 
An  unavoidable  and  unexpected  delay  in  its  appearance  has 
enabled  me  to  add  a few  examples  in  illustration  of  my  views, 
which  I have  met  with  since  that  time;  but  it  has  received  no 
other  additions. 

R.  G.  W. 

Nkw  York,  July  8,  187a 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I.  pack 

Introduction  13 

CHAPTER  II. 

Newspaper  English.  Big  Words  for  Small 

Thoughts 28 

CHAPTER  III. 

British  English  and  “American”  English 44 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Style 63 

CHAPTER  V. 

Misused  Words 80 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Some  Briticisms 183 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Words  that  are  not  Words 199 

(9) 


ro 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Formation  of  Pronouns.  — Some.  — Adjectives  in  En. 

— ■ Either  and  Neither.  — Shall  and  Will.  . . 239 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Grammar,  English  and  Latin 274 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Grammarless  Tongue 295 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Is  Being  Done 334 

CHAPTER  XII. 

A Desultory  Denunciation  of  English  Dictiona- 
ries  ...  364 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

“Jus  et  Norma  Loquendi.”  . . . 39a 

Conclusion 417 


APPENDIX. 

I.  How  THE  Exception  proves  the  Rule 427 

II.  Controversy. 43C 


INDEX.  , , • . 45I 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES, 


“They  be  noi  wise,  tnerelbre  that  say,  what  care  I for  man’s  wordes  and  utterance, 
if  hys  matter  and  reasons  be  good  ? Such  men,  say  so,  not  so  much  of  ignorance,  as 
eyther  of  some  singular  pride  in  themselves,  or  some  speciall  malice  of  other,  or  for 
some  private  and  parciall  matter,  either  in  Religion  or  other  kynde  of  learning.  For 
good  and  choice  meates,  be  no  more  requisite  for  helthy  bodyes,  than  proper  and  apt 
wordes  be  for  good  matters,  and  also  playne  and  sensible  utterance  for  the  best  and 
deepest  reasons ; in  which  two  poyntes  standeth  perfect  eloquence,  one  of  the  fayrest 
and  rarest  giftes  that  God  doth  geve  to  man.” 

Ascham’s  Scholemaster,  fol.  46,  ed.  1571 

“Seeing  that  truth  consisteth  in  the  right  ordering  of  names  in  our  afhrmations,  a 
man  that  seeketh  precise  truth  had  heed  to  remember  w'hat  every  name  he  useth  stands 
for,  and  to  place  it  accordingly,  or  else  he  will  find  himselfe  entangled  in  w'ords  as  a 
bird  in  lime-twiees.  The  more  he  struggles  the  more  belimed.” 

Hobbes’s  Leviathan,  I.  4. 

F.  Must  we  always  be  seeking  after  the  meaning  of  words? 

Of  important  words  we  must,  if  we  wish  to  avoid  important  error.  The 
meaning  of  these  words  especially  is  of  the  greatest  consequence  to  mankind,  and 
seems  to  have  been  strangely  neglected  by  those  w'hohave  made  most  use  of  them.” 

Tooke,  Diversions  of  Purley,  Part  II.,  ch.  i. 

“ Mankind  in  general  are  so  little  in  the  habit  of  looking  steadily  at  their  owm  mean- 
ing, or  of  weighing  the  words  by  which  they  express  it,  that  the  writer  who  is  careful 
to  do  both  will  sometimes  mislead  his  readers  through  the  very  excellence  which  qual- 
ifies him  to  be  their  instructor ; and  this  with  no  other  fault  on  his  part  than  the  mod- 
est mistake  on  his  part  of  supposing  in  those  to  whom  he  addresses  himself  an  intel- 
lect as  watchful  as  his  own.  ” 


Coleridge,  The  Friend,  II.,  2d  Landing  Place. 


CHAPTER  I. 


INTRODUCTION. 

ONE  of  the  last  judgments  pronounced  in  philo» 
logy  is,  that  words  are  merely  arbitrary  sounds 
for  the  expression  and  communication  of  ideas ; 
that,  for  instance,  a man  calls  the  source  of  light 
and  heat  the  sun,  because  his  mother  taught  him 
so  to  call  it,  and  that  is  the  name  by  which  it  is 
known  to  the  people  around  him,  and  that  if  he 
had  been  taught  in  his  childhood,  and  by  example 
afterwards,  to  call  it  the  moon,  he  would  have  done  so 
without  question.  But  this  truth  was  declared  more 
than  two  hundred  years  ago  by  Oliver  Cromwell  in 
his  reply  to  the  committee  that  waited  upon  him 
from  Parliament  to  ask  him  to  take  the  title  of  king. 
In  the  course  of  his  refusal  to  yield  to  their  request, 
he  said,  — 

“ Words  have  not  their  import  from  the  natural  power  of 
particular  combinations  of  characters,  or  from  the  real  efficacy 
of  certain  sounds,  but  from  the  consent  of  those  that  use  them, 
and  arbitrarily  annex  certain  ideas  to  them,  which  might  have 
been  signified  with  equal  propriety  by  any  other.” 

Thus  mother  wit  forestalled  philological  de- 
duction ; but  the  reasoning  would  be  weak  that 
found  in  the  fact  that  language  is  formed,  on  the 
whole,  by  consent  and  custom,  an  argument  in  favor 

13 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


14 

of  indifference  as  to  the  right  or  wrong  of  usage. 
For,  although  he  was  so  earnestly  entreated  thereto, 
and  although  it  would  have  obviated  some  difficulty 
in  the  administration  of  the  government,  Crom- 
well, notwithstanding  his  opinion  as  to  the  arbitrary 
meaning  of  words,  refused  to  be  called  a king,  be- 
cause king  meant  something  that  he  was  not,  and 
had  associations  which  he  wished  not  to  bring  up. 
And  although  to  the  individual  words  are  arbitrary, 
to  the  race  or  the  nation,  they  are  growths,  and  are 
themselves  the  fruit  and  the  sign  of  the  growth  of 
the  race  or  the  nation  itself.  So  words  have,  like 
men,  a history,  and  alliances,  and  rights  of  birth, 
and  inherent  powers  which  endure  as  long  as  they 
live,  and  which  they  can  transmit,  although  some- 
what modified,  to  their  rightful  successors. 

But  although  most  words  are  more  immutable, 
as  well  as  more  enduring,  than  men  are,  some  of 
them  within  the  memory  of  one  generation  vary 
both  in  their  forms  and  in  the  uses  which  they  serve, 
doing  so  according  to  the  needs  and  even  the 
neglect  of  the  users.  And  thus  it  is  that  living 
languages  are  always  changing.  Spoken  words 
acquire,  by  use  and  from  the  varying  circumstances 
of  those  who  use  them,  other  and  wider  significa- 
tions than  those  which  they  had  originally ; inflec- 
tions are  dropped,  and  construction  is  modified, 
its  tendency  being  generally  towards  simplicity. 
Changes  in  inflection  and  construction  are  found  not 
to  be  casual  or  capricious,  but  processes  according 
to  laws  of  development;  which,  however,  as  in  the 
case  of  all  laws,  physical  or  moral,  are  deduced  from 
the  processes  themselves.  The  apparent  operation 


INTRODUCTION. 


15 


of  these  laws  is  recognized  so  submissively  by  some 
philologists  that  Dr.  Latham  has  propounded  the 
dogma  that  in  language  whatever  is,  is  right;  to 
which  he  adds  another,  as  a corollary  to  the  for- 
mer, that  whatever  was,  was  wrong.  But  even  ^ 
if  we  admit  that  in  language  v/hatever  is  — that  is, 
whatever  usage  obtains  generally  among  the  people 
who  speak  a language  as  their  mother  tongue  — is 
right,  that  is,  fulfils  the  true  function  of  language, 
which  is  to  serve  as  a communication  between  man 
and  man,  it  certainly  therefore  follows  that,  what- 
ever was,  was  also  right ; because  it  did,  at  one 
time,  obtain  generally,  and  did  fulfil  the  function  of 
language. 

The  truth  is,  that,  although  usage  may  be  com- 
pulsory in  its  behests,  and  thus  establish  a govern- 
ment de  facto^  which  men  have  found  that  they 
must  recognize  whether  they  will  or  no,  in  lan- 
guage, as  in  all  other  human  affairs,  that  which  is 
may  be  wrong.  There  is  some  other  law  in  lan- 
guage than  the  mere  arbitrary  will  of  the  users. 
Language  is  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for 
language  ; but  yet  no  man,  no  number  of  men,  how- 
ever great,  can  of  purpose  change  the  meaning  of 
one  monosyllable.  For,  unless  the  meaning  of  words 
is  fixed  during  a generation,  language  will  fail  to 
impart  ideas,  and  even  to  communicate  facts:  Unless 
it  is  traceable  through  the  writings  of  many  gen- 
erations in  a connected  course  of  normal  develop- 
ment, language  becomes  a mere  temporary  and 
arbitrary  mode  of  intercourse ; it  fails  to  be  an  ex- 
ponent of  a people’s  intellectual  growth ; and  the 
speech  of  our  immediate  forefathers  dies  upon  theif 


i6 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


lips,  and  is  forgotten.  Of  such  misfortune  there  is, 
however,  not  the  remotest  probability. 

The  recognition  of  the  changes  which  the  English 
language  has  been  undergoing  from  the  time  when 
our  Anglo-Saxon,  or  rather  our  English  forefathers, 
took,  possession  of  the  southern  part  of  Britain,  is 
no  discovery  of  modern  philology.  The  changes, 
and  the  inconvenience  which  follows  them,  were 
noticed  four  hundred  3^ears  ago  by  William  Caxton, 
our  first  printer  — a ” simple  person,”  as  he  de- 
scribes himself,  but  an  observant,  a thoughtful,  and 
a very  intelligent  man,  and  one  to  whom  English 
literature  is  much  indebted.  He  was  not  only  a 
printer,  but  a writer ; and  as  a part  of  his  literary 
labor  he  translated  into  English  a French  version  of 
the  vEneid,  and  published  it  in  the  year  1490.  In 
Caxton’s  preface  to  that  book  is  a passage  which 
is  interesting  in  itself,  and  also  germane  to  our  sub- 
ject. I will  give  the  passage  entire,  and  in  our 
modern  orthography  : — 

“ And  when  I had  advised  me  in  this  said  book,  I deliberated 
and  concluded  to  translate  it  into  English,  and  forthwith  took  a 
pen  and  ink  and  wrote  a leaf  or  twain,  which  I oversaw  again  to 
correct  it;  and  when  I saw  the  fair  and  strange  terms  therein,  I 
doubted  that  it  should  not  please  some  gentlemen ‘which  late 
blamed  me,  saying,  that  in  my  translations  I had  over-curious 
terms  which  could  not  be  understonden  of  common  people,  and 
desired  me  to  use  old  and  homely  terms  in  my  translations;  and 
fain  would  I satisfy  every  man  ; and  so  to  do,  took  an  old  book 
and  read  therein;  and  certainl}'  the  English  was  so  rude  and 
broad  that  I could  not  well  understand  it.  And  also  my  Lord 
Abbot  of  Westminster  did  shew  to  me  of  late  certain  evidences 
written  in  old  English,  for  to  reduce  it  into  our  English  now 
used,  and  certainly  it  was  written  in  such  wise  that  it  was  more 
like  Dutch  than  English.  I could  not  reduce  ne  bring  it  to  be 
understonden.  And  certainly  our  language  now  used  varyetlc 


INTRODUCTION. 


17 


far  from  what  was  used  and  spoken  when  I was  born.  For  we 
Englishmen  ben  born  under  the  domination  of  the  Moon,  which 
is  never  steadfast,  but  ever  wavering,  waxjnge  one  season  and 
vvaneth  and  decreaseth  another  season,  and  that  common  Eng- 
lish that  is  spoken  in  one  Shire  varieth  from  another.  Inso- 
much that  in  my  days  it  happened  that  certain  merchants  were  ^ 
in  a ship  in  Tamis  [Thames]  fcr  to  have  sailed  over  the  sea  into 
Zealand,  and  for  lack  of  wind  they  tarried  at  Forland,  and  went 
to  land  for  to  refresh  them.  And  one  of  them  named  Sheffield, 
a mercer,  came  into  an  house  and  axed  for  meat,  and  specially 
he  axed  for  eggs.  And  the  good  wife  answered  that  she  could 
speak  no  French;  and  the  merchant  was  angry;  for  he  also 
could  speak  no  French,  but  would  have  had  the  eggs,  and  she 
understood  him  not.  And  then  at  last  another  said  that  he  would 
have  eyren ; then  the  good  wife  said  that  she  understood  him 
well.  Lo,  what  should  a man  in  these  days  write  or 

eyre?i  ? Certainly  it  is  hard  to  please  every  man,  because  of 
diversity  and  change  of  language.  For  in  these  days  every  man 
that  is  in  any  reputation  in  this  country  will  utter  his  communi- 
cation and  matters  in  such  manner  and  terms  that  few  men  shall 
understand  them;  and  some  honest  and  great  clerks  have  been 
with  me  and  desired  me  to  write  the  most  curious  terms  that  I 
could  find.  And  thus  between  plain,  rude,  and  curious,  I stand 
abashed.” 

My  chief  purpose  in  giving  this  passage  in  our 
regulated  spelling  is,  that  the  reader  may  notice 
how  entirely  it  is  written  in  the  English  of  to-day. 
Except  axcdf  which  we  have  heard  used  ourselves, 
and  eyrcjz,  which  Caxton  himself  notices  as  obso- 
lete, hcn^  ne,  and  midcrstonden,  are  the  only  words 
in  it  which  have  not  just  the  form  and  the  meaning 
that  we  now  give  to  them ; and  but  for  these  five 
words  and  a little  quaintness  of  style,  the  passage 
in  its  construction  and  its  idiom  miorht  have  been 

O 

written  yesterday.  -And  yet  the  writer  was  born  in 
the  reign  of  Henry  IV.,  and  died  a hundred  years 
oefore  Shakespeare  wrote  his  first  play.  He  says? 
too,  in  another  part  of  his  preface,  that  he  wrote  in 

2 


i8 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


the  idiom  and  with  the  vocabulary  in  use  among 
educated  people  of  his  day,  in  "Englishe  not  over 
rude,”  on  the  one  hand,  " ne  curyous,”  that  is, 
affected  and  elaborately  fine,  on  the  other.  If  the 
changes  in  language  which  took  place  during  hi? 
lif";  were  as  great  as  he  seems  to  have  thought  them, 
if  iney  were  as  great  as  those  with  which  in  the 
prese  h day  we  seem  to  be  threatened,  certainly 
the  peiiod  intervening  between  the  time  which  saw 
him  a ndddle-aged  man  and  now  — four  hundred 
years  — se  "ms  by  contrast  to  have  been  one  of 
almost  absolute  linguistic  stagnation.  This,  how- 
ever, is  mere  ^-jeeming.  The  period  of  which  Cax- 
ton  speaks  was  one  in  which  the  language  was 
crystallizing  into  its  present  form,  and  becoming 
the  English  known  to  literature  ; and  changes  then 
were  rapid  and  noticeable.  The  changes  of  our 
day  are  mostly  the  result  of  the  very  superficial 
instruction  of  a large  body  of  people,  who  read 
much  and  without  discrimination,  whose  reading  is 
chiefly  confined  to  newspapers  hastily  written  by 
men  also  very  insufficiently  educated,  and  who  are 
careless  of  accuracy  in  their  ordinary  speaking  and 
writing,  and  ambitious  of  literary  excellence  when 
they  make  any  extraordinary  effort.  The  tendency 
of  this  intellectual  condition  of  a great  and  active 
race  is  to  the  degradation  of  language,  the  utter 
abolition  of  simple,  clear,  and  manly  speech. 
Against  this  tendency  it  behooves  all  men  who  have 
means  and  opportunity  to  strive,  almost  as  if  it 
were  a question  of  morals.  For  there  is  a kind 
of  dishonesty  in  the  careless  and  incorrect  use  of 
language. 


INTRODUCTION. 


19 


Purity,  however,  is  not  a quality  which  can 
be  accurately  predicated  of  language.  What  the 
phrase  so  often  heard,  ” pure  English,”  really  means, 
it  would,  probably,  puzzle  those  who  use  it  to 
explain.  For  our  modern  tongues  are  like  many 
buildings  that  stand  upon  sites  long  swept  over  by 
the  ever-advancing,  though  backward  and  forward 
shifting  tide  of  civilization.  They  are  built  out  of 
the  ruins  of  the  work  of  previous  generations,  to 
which  we  and  our  immediate  predecessors  have 
added  something  of  our  own.  This  process  has 
been  going  on  since  the  disappearance  of  the  first 
generation  of  speaking  men  ; and  it  will  never  cease. 
But  there  will  be  a change  in  its  mode  and  rate, 
The  change  has  begun  already.  The  invention  of 
printing,  the  instruction  of  the  mass  of  the  people, 
and  the  ease  of  popular  intercommunication,  will 
surely  prevent  any  such  corruption  and  detrition  of 
language  as  that  which  has  resulted  in  the  modern 
English,  German,  French,  Spanish,  and  Italian 
tongues.  Phonetic  degradation  will  play  a less 
important  part  than  it  has  heretofore  played  in  the 
history  of  language.  Changes  in  the  forms,  and 
variation  in  the  meanings  of  words  will  be  slow, 
and  if  not  deliberate,  at  least  half  conscious ; and 
the  corruptions  that  we  have  to  guard  against  are 
chiefly  those  consequent  upon  pretentious  ignorance 
and  aggressive  vulgarity. 

It  may  be  reasonably  doubted  whether  there  ever 
was  a pure  language  two  generations  old ; that  is,  a 
language  homogeneous,  of  but  one  element.  All 
tongues  known  to  philology  show,  if  not  the  min- 
gling in  considerable  and  nearly  determinable  pro- 


zo 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


portions  of  two  or  three  linguistic  elements,  at  least 
the  adoption  and  adaptation  numerous  foreign 
words.  English  has  for  many  centuries  been  far 
from  being  a simple  language.  Chaucer’s  "well 
of  English  undefiled”  is  very  pleasant  and  whole- 
some drinking;  but, pronouns,  prepositions,  conjunc- 
tions, and  " auxiliary  ” verbs  aside,  it  is  a mixture 
in  which  Normanized,  Gallicized  Latin  is  mingled 
in  large  proportion  with  a base  of  degraded  Anglo- 
Saxon.  And  yet  the  result  of  this  hybridity  and 
degradation  is  the  tongue  in  which  Shakespeare 
wrote,  and  the  translators  of  the  Bible,  and  Milton, 
and  Bunyan,  and  Burke,  and  Goldsmith,  and  Irving, 
and  Hawthorne ; making  in  a language  without  a 
superior  a literature  without  an  equal. 

But  the  presence  in  our  language  of  two  ele- 
ments, both  of  which  are  essential  to  its  present 
fulness  and  force,  no  less  than  to  its  fineness  and 
flexibility,  does  not  make  it  sure  that  these  are  of 
equal  or  of  nearly  equal  importance.  Valuable  as 
the  Latin  adjuncts  to  our  language  are,  in  the 
appreciation  of  their  value  it  should  never  be  for- 
gotten that  they  are  adjuncts.  The  frame,  the 
sinews,  the  nerves,  the  heart’s  blood,  in  brief,  the 
body  and  soul  of  our  language  is  English ; Latin 
and  Greek  furnish  only  its  limbs  and  outward 
flourishes.  If  what  has  come  to  us  through  the 
Normans,  and  since  their  time  from  France  and 
Italy  and  the  Latin  lexicon,  were  turned  out  of  our 
vocabulary,  we  could  live,  and  love,  and  work,  and 
alk,  and  sing,  and  have  a folk-lore  and  a higher 
literature.  But  take  out  the  former,  the  movement 
of  our  lives  wouM  be  clogged,  and  the  language 


INTRODUCTION. 


21 


would  fall  to  pieces  for  lack  of  framework  and 
foundation,  and  we  could  do  none  of  those  things. 
We  might  teach  in  the  lecture-room,  and  formulate 
the  results  of  our  work  in  the  laboratory,  but  we 
should  be  almost  mute  at  home,  and  our  language^ 
and  our  literature  would  be  no  more  ours  than  it 
would  be  France’s,  or  Spain’s,  or  Italy’s. 

To  the  Latin  we  owe,  as  the  most  cursory  stu- 
dent  of  our  language  must  have  observed,  a great 
proportion  of  the  vocabulary  of  philosophy,  of  art, 
of  science,  and  of  morals ; and  by  means  of  words 
derived  from  the  Latin  we  express,  as  it  is  assumed, 
shades  of  thought  and  of  feeling  finer  than  those  of 
which  our  simple  mother  tongue  is  capable.  But 
it  may  at  least  be  doubted  whether  we  do  not  turn 
too  quickly  to  the  Latin  lexicon  when  we  wish  a 
name  for  a new  thought  cr  a new  thing,  and  whether 
out  of  the  simples  of  our  ancient  English,  or  Anglo- 
Saxon,  so  called,  we  might  not  have  formed  a lan- 
guage copious  enough  for  all  the  needs  of  the  high- 
est civilization,  and  subtle  enough  for  all  the  requi- 
sitions of  philosophy.  For  instance,  what  we  call, 
in  Latinish  phrase,  remorse  of  conscience,  our  fore- 
fathers called  againbite  of  inwit ; and  in  using  the 
former  we  express  exactly  the  same  ideas  as  are 
expressed  by  the  latter.  As  the  corresponding 
compounds  and  the  corresponding  elements  have 
the  same  meaning,  what  more  do  we  gain  by  put- 
ting  together  re  and  morse^  con  and  science^  than 
by  doing  the  same  with  again  and  hite^  in  and 
wit  1 The  English  words  now  sound  uncouth, 
and  provoke  a smile,  but  they  do  so  only  be- 
cause we  are  accustomed  to  the  Latin  derivatives. 


Z2 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


No  advantage  seems  likely  to  be  pleaded  for  the  use 
of  the  latter  other  than  that  they  produce  a single 
impression  on  the  mind  of  the  English-speaking 
man,  causing  him  to  accept  reynorse  and  conscience 
as  simple  words,  expressing  simple  things,  without 
the  suggestion  of  a biting  again  and  an  inner  wit- 
ting. But  it  may  first  be  doubted  whether  this 
thoughtless,  unanalytic  acceptance  of  a word  is 
without  some  drawback  of  dissipating  and  enfee- 
bling disadvantage ; and  next,  and  chiefly,  it  may 
be  safely  asserted  that  the  English  compounds 
would  produce,  if  in  common  use,  as  single  and  as 
strong  an  impression  as  the  Latin  do.  Who  that 
does  not  stop  to  think  and  take  to  pieces,  receives 
other  than  a single  impression  from  such  words  as 
insight  (bereaved  twin  of  inwif)^  gos-pel^  falsehood^ 
%vorshif  Jioniely ^breakfast ^ truthful^  boyhood^  house- 
hold,  brimstone,  twilight,  acorn,  chestnut,  instead, 
homestead,  and  the  like,  of  which  our  common  cur- 
rent English  would  furnish  numberless  examples? 

In  no  way  is  our  language  more  wronged  than 
by  the  weak  readiness  with  which  many  of  those 
who,  having  neither  a hearty  love  nor  a ready  mas- 
tery of  it,  or  lacking  both,  fly  to  the  Latir>  tongue 
or  to  the  Greek  for  help  in  the  naming  of  a new 
thought  or  thing,  or  the  partial  concealment  of  an 
old  one,  calling,  for  instance,  nakedness  nudity,  and 
a bathing-tub  a lavatory.  By  so  doing  they  help  to 
deface  the  characteristic  traits  of  our  mother  tongue, 
and  to  mar  and  stunt  its  kindly  growth. 

No  one  denies — certainly  I do  not  deny — the  val- 
ue of  the  Latin  element  of  our  modern  English  in 
the  expression  of  abstract  ideas  and  general  notions. 


INTRODUCTION.  . 


23 


It  also  gives  amplitude,  and  ease,  and  grace  to  a 
language  which  without  it  might  be  admirable  only 
for  compact  and  rugged  strength.  All  which  being 
granted,  it  still  remains  to  be  shown  that  there  is 
not  in  simple  English  — that  is,  Anglo-Saxon  with- 
out inflections  — the  power  of  developing  a vocabu- 
lary competent  to  all  the  requirements  of  philosophy, 
of  science,  of  art,  no  less  than  of  society  and  of 
sentiment.  I believe  that  pure  English  has,  in  this 
respect  at  least,  the  full  capacity  of  the  German 
language.  Nevertheless,  one  of  the  advantages  of 
English  over  German,  in  form  and  euphony,  is  in 
this  very  introduction  of  Anglicized  Latin  and  Greek 
words  for  the  expression  of  abstract  ideas,  which  re 
lieves  us  of  such  quintuple  compounds,  for  instance, 
as  sfrachwissenschaftscinheit.  With  the  expression 
of  abstract  ideas  and  scientific  facts,  however,  the 
Latinization  of  our  language  should  stop,  or  it  will 
lose  its  home  character,  and  kin  traits,  and  become 
weak,  flabby,  and  inflated,  and  thus,  ridiculous. 

One  of  the  changes  to  which  language  is  subject 
during  the  healthy  intellectual  condition  of  a peo- 
ple, and  in  its  progress  from  rudeness  to  refine- 
ment, is  the  casting  off  of  rude,  clumsy,  and  in- 
sufficiently worked-out  forms  of  speech,  sometimes 
mistakenly  honored  under  the  name  of  idioms. 
Speech,  the  product  of  reason,  tends  more  and 
more  to  conform  itself  to  reason ; and  when  gram- 
mar, which  is  the  formulation  of  usage,  is  opposed 
to  reason,  there  arises,  sooner  -or  later,  a conflict 
between  logic,  or  the  law  of  reason,  and  grammar, 
the  law  of  precedent,  in  which  the  former  is  always 
victorious.  And  this  has  been  notably  the  case  in 


24 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


the  history  of  the  English  language.  Usage,  there- 
fore, is  not,  as  it  is  often  claimed  to  be,  the  absolute 
law  of  language  ; and  it  never  has  been  so  with  any 
people  — could  not  be,  or  we  should  have  an  ex- 
ample of  a language  which  had  not  changed  from 
what  it  was  in  its  first  stage,  if  indeed  under  such  a 
law  there  could  be  a first  stage  in  language.  Hor- 
ace, indeed,  in  a passage  often  quoted,  seems  to 
have  accepted  usage  as  the  supreme  authority  in 
speech : — 

“ si  volet  usus, 

Quern  penes  arbitrium  est,  et  jus,  et  norma  loquendi.” 

But  if  this  dictum  were  unconditional,  and  common 
usage  were  the  absolute  and  rightful  arbiter  in  all 
questions  of  language,  there  would  be  no  hope  of 
improvement  in  the  speech  of  an  ignorant  and 
degraded  society,  no  rightful  protest  against  its  mean 
and  monstrous  colloquial  phrases,  which,  indeed, 
would  then  be  neither  mean  nor  monstrous ; the 
fact  that  they  were  in  use  being  their  full  justifica- 
tion. The  truth  is,  however,  that  the  authority  of 
general  usage,  or  even  of  the  usage  of  great  wri- 
ters, is  not  absolute  in  language.  There  is  a misuse 
of  words  which  can  be  justified  by  no  authority, 
however  great,  by  no  usage,  however  general. 

And,  as  usage  does  not  justify  that  which  is  es- 
sentially unreasonable,  so  in  the  fact  that  a word  or 
phrase  is  an  innovation,  a neologism,  there  is  noth- 
ing whatever  to  deter  a bold,  clear-headed  thinker 
from  its  use.  Otherwise  language  would  not  grow. 
New  words,  when  they  are  needed,  and  are  rightly 
formed,  and  so  clearly  discriminated  that  they  have 
a meaning  peculiarly  their  own,  enrich  a language  ; 


INTRODUCTION. 


25 


while  the  use  of  one  word  to  mean  many  things, 
more  or  less  unlike,  is  the  sign  of  poverty  in  speech, 
and  the  source  of  ambiguity,  the  mother  of  confusion. 
For  these  reasons  the  objection  on  the  part  of  a 
writer  upon  language  to  a word  or  a phrase  should 
not  be  that  it  is  new,  but  that  it  is  inconsistent  with 
reason,  incongruous  in  itself,  or  opposed  to  the 
genius  of  tlie  tongue  into  which  it  has  been  intro- 
duced. Something  must  and  surely  will  be  sacri- 
ficed in  language  to  convenience ; but  too  much 
may  be  sacrificed  to  brevity.  A periphrasis  which 
is  clear  and  forcible  is  not  to  be  abandoned  for  a 
shorter  phrase,  or  even  a single  word,  which  is  am- 
biguous, barbarous,  grotesque,  or  illogical.  Unless 
much  is  at  stake,  it  is  always  better  to  go  clean  and 
dry-shod  a little  way  about  than  to  soil  our  feet  by 
taking  a short  cut. 

For  two  centuries  and  a half,  since  the  time  when 
King  Lear  was  written  and  our  revised  trans- 
lation of  the  Bible  made,  the  English  language  has 
suffered  little  change,  either  by  loss  or  gain.  Ex- 
cepting that  which  was  slang,  or  cant,  or  loose  col- 
loquialism in  his  day,  there  is  little  in  Shakespeare’s 
plays  which  is  not  heard  now,  more  or  less,  from 
the  lips  of  English-speaking  men ; and  to  his  vo- 
cabulary the}^  have  added  little  except  words  which 
are  names  for  new  things.  The  language  has  not 
sensibly  improved,  nor  has  it  deteriorated.  In  the 
latter  part  of  the  last  century  it  was  in  some  peril. 
We  ran  the  risk,  then,  of  the  introduction  of  a schol- 
arly diction  and  a formal  style  into  our  literature, 
and  of  a separation  of  our  colloquial  speech,  the 
language  of  common  folk  and*  common  needs 


26 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


from  that  of  literary  people  and  grand  occasions. 
That  danger  we  happily  escaped,  and  we  still  speak 
and  write  a common,  if  not  a homogeneous  lan- 
guage, in  which  there  is  no  word  which  is  excluded 
by  its  commonness  or  its  meanness  from  the  highest 
strain  of  poetry. 

Criticism,  however,  is  now  much  needed  to  keep 
our  language  from  deterioration,  to  defend  it  against 
the  assaults  of  presuming  half-knowledge,  always 
bolder  than  wisdom,  always  more  perniciously  in- 
trusive than  conscious  ignorance.  Language  must 
always  be  made  by  the  mass  of  those  who  use 
it ; but  when  that  mass  is  misled  by  a little  learn- 
ing, — a dangerous  thing  only  as  edge  tools  are 
dangerous  to  those  who  will  handle  them  with- 
out understanding  their  use,  — and  undertakes  to 
make  language  according  to  knowledge  rather  than 
by  instinct,  confusion  and  disaster  can  be  warded 
off  only  by  criticism.  Criticism  is  the  child  and 
handmaid  of  reflection.  It  works  by  censure;  and 
censure  implies  a standard.  As  to  words  and  the  use 
of  words,  the  standard  is  either  reason,  whose  laws 
are  absolute,  or  analogy,  whose  milder  sway  hinders 
anomalous,  barbarous,  and  solecistic  changes,  and 
helps  those  which  are  in  harmony  with  the  genius  of 
a language.  Criticism,  setting  at  nought  the  as- 
sumption of  any  absolute  authority  in  language, 
may  check  bad  usage  and  reform  degraded  cus- 
tom. It  may  not  only  resist  the  introduction  of  that 
which  is  debasing  or  enfeebling,  but  it  may  thrust 
out  vicious  words  and  phrases  which  through  care- 
lessness or  perverted  taste  may  have  obtained  a 
footing.  It  is  only  by  such  criticism  that  our  Ian- 


INTRODUCTION.  ' 


2/ 


guage  can  now  be  restrained  from  license  and  pre- 
served from  corruption.  Criticism  cannot  at  once, 
with  absolute  and  omnipotent  voice,  banish  the  bad, 
and  establish  or  introduce  the  good  ; but  by  watch- 
fulness and  reason  it  may  gradually  form  such  a ^ 
taste  in  those  who  are,  if  not  the  framers,  at  least 
the  arbiters,  of  linguistic  law,  that  thus,  by  indirec- 
tion finding  direction  out,  it  may  insure  the  efiec- 
tual  condemnation  of  that  which  itself  could  not 
exclude. 

Until  comparatively  late  years  language  was 
formed  by  the  intuitive  sense  of  those  who  spoke 
it;  but  now,  among  highly  civilized  peoples,  the 
element  of  consciousness  is  entering  into  its  pro- 
duction. If  consciousness  must  be  present,  it 
should  be,  at  least  in  the  last  resort,  the  conscious- 
ness of  trained  and  cultivated  minds  ; and  such  con- 
sciousness is  critical,  indeed  is  criticism.  And 
those  who  feel  the  need  of  support  in  giving  them- 
selves to  the  study  of  verbal  criticism  may  find  it 
in  the  'comfortable  words  of  Scaliger  the  younger, 
who  says,  ''The  sifting  of  these  subtleties,  although 
it  is  of  no  use  to  machines  for  grinding  corn,  frees 
the  mind  from  the  rust  of  ignorance,  and  sharpens 
it  for  other  matters.”  * And  it  may  reassure  us  to 
remember  that,  in  the  crisis  of  the  great  struggle 
between  Caesar  and  Pompey,  Cicero,  being  then  in 
the  zenith  of  his  power,  turned  aside,  in  a letter  to 
Atticus.upon  weighty  affairs  of  state,  to  discuss  a 
point  of  grammar  with  that  eminent  critic. 

* Harum  indagatio  subtilitatum,  etsi  non  est  utilis  ad  machi- 
nas  farinarias  conficiendas,  exuit  animum  tamen  inscitiae  rubi- 
gine,  acuit-que  ad  alia. 


28 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


CHAPTER  11. 

NEWSPAPER  ENGLISH.  BIG  WORDS  FOR  SMALL, 
THOUGHTS. 

SIMPLE  and  unpretending  ignorance  is  always 
respectable,  and  sometimes  charming  but  there 
is  little  that  more  deserves  contempt  than  the  pre- 
tence of  ignorance  to  knowledge.  The  curse  and 
the  peril  of  language  in  this  day,  and  particularly  in 
this  country,  is,  that  it  is  at  the  mercy  of  men  who, 
instead  of  being  content  to  use  it  well  according  to 
their  honest  ignorance,  use  it  ill  according  to  their 
affected  knowledge ; who,  being  vulgar,  would 
seem  elegant ; who,  being  empty,  would  seem  full ; 
who  make  up  in  pretence  what  they  lack  in  real- 
ity ; and  whose  little  thoughts,  let  off  in  enormous 
phrases,  sound  like  fire-crackers  in  an  empty  barrel. 

How  I detest  the  vain  parade 
Of  big-mouthed  words  of  large  pretence! 

And  shall  they  thus  thy  soul  degrade, 

O tongue  so  dear  to  common  sense! 

Shouldst  thou  accept  the  pompous  laws 
By  which  our  blustering  tyros  prate, 

Soon  Shakespeare’s  songs  and  Bunyan’s  saws 
Some  tumid  trickster  must  translate 

Our  language,  like  our  daily  lite, 

Accords  the  homely  and  sublime, 

And  jars  with  phrases  that  are  rife 
With  pedantry  of  every  clime. 


NEWSPAPER  ENGLISH. 


29 


For  eloquence  it  clangs  like  arms, 

For  love  it  touches  tender  chords, 

But  he  to  whom  the  world’s  heart  warms 

Must  speak  in  wholesome,  home-bred  words. 

To  the  reader  who  is  familiar  with  Beranger’s 
*''Derniers  Chansons’’  these  lines  will  bring  to  mind 
two  stanzas  in  the  poet’s  ” Tambour  Major,”  in 
which  he  compares  pretentious  phrases  to  a big, 
bedizened  drum-major,  and  simple  language  to  the 
little  gray-coated  Napoleon  at  Austerlitz  — a com- 
parison which  has  been  brought  to  my  mind  very 
frequently  during  the  writing  of  this  book. 

It  will  be  well  for  us  to  examine  some  examples 
of  this  vice  of  language  in  its  various  kinds  ; and 
for  them  we  must  go  to  the  newspaper  press,  which 
reflects  so  truly  the  surface  of  modern  life,  although 
its  surface  only. 

There  is,  first,  the  style  which  has  rightly  come 
to  be  called  newspaper  English,  and  in  which  we 
are  told,  for  instance,  of  an  attack  upon  a fortified 
position  on  the  Potomac,  that  ” the  thousand-toned 
artillery  duel  progresses  magnificently  at  this  hour, 
the  howling  shell  bursting  in  wild  profusion  in  camp 
and  battery,  and  among  the  trembling  pines.”  I 
quote  this  from  the  columns  of  a first-rate  New 
Vork  newspaper,  because  the  real  thing  is  so  much 
more  characteristic  than  any  imitation  could  be,  and 
is  quite  as  ridiculous.  This  style  has  been  in  use 
so  long,  and  has,  day  after  day,  been  impressed 
upon  the  minds  of  so  many  persons  to  whom  news- 
papers are  authority,  as  to  language  no  less  than 
as  to  facts,  that  it  is  actually  coming  into  vogue  in 
daily  life  with  some  of  our  people.  Not  long  ago 


30 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


my  attention  was  attracted  by  a building  which  1 
had  not  noticed  before,  and,  stepping  up  to  a police- 
man who  stood  hard  by,  I asked  him  what  it  was. 
He  promptly  replied  (I  wrote  down  his  answer 
within  the  minute),  "That  is  an  institootion  inau- 
gurated under  the  auspices  of  the  Sisters  of  Mercy, 
for  the  reformation  of  them  3"oung  females  what 
has  deviated  from  the  paths  of  rectitood.”  It  was 
in  fact  an  asylum  for  women  of  the  town ; but  my 
informant  would  surely  have  regarded  such  a de- 
scription of  it  as  inelegant,  and  perhaps  as  indel- 
icate. True,  there  was  a glaring  incongruity  be- 
tween the  pompousness  of  his  phraseology  and  his 
use  of  those  simple  and  common  parts  of  speech, 
the  pronouns  ; but  I confess  that,  in  his  dispensa- 
tion of  language,  "them”  and  "what”  were  the 
only  crumbs  from  which  I received  any  comfort. 
But  could  I find  fault  with  m}^  civil  and  obliging 
informant,  when  I knew  that  every  day  he  might 
read  in  the  leading  articles  of  our  best  newspapers 
such  sentences,  for  instance,  as  the  following?  — 

“ There  is,  without  doubt,  some  subtle  essence  permeating 
the  elementary  constitution  of  crime  which  so  operates  that 
men  and  women  become  its  involuntary  followers  by  sheer  force 
of  attraction,  as  it  were.” 

I am  sure,  at  least,  that  the  policeman  knew  bet- 
ter what  he  meant  when  he  spoke  than  the  journal- 
ist did  what  he  meant  when  he  wrote.  Policeman 
and  lournalist  both  wished  not  merely  to  tell  what 
they  knew  and  tliought  in  the  simplest,  clearest 
way  they  wished  to  say  something  elegant,  and 
to  use  fine  language  ; and  both  made  themselves 
ridiculous.  Neither  this  fault  nor  this  complaint  is 


BIG  WORDS  FOR  SMALL  THOUGHTS. 


31 


new ; but  the  censure  seems  not  to  have  diminished 
the  fault,  either  in  frequency  or  in  degree.  Our 
every-day  writing  is  infested  with  this  silly  bom- 
bast, this  stilted  nonsense.  One  journalist,  reflect- 
ing upon  the  increase  of  violence,  and  wishing  to 
say  that  ruflians  should  not  be  allowed  to  go  armed, 
writes,  "We  cannot,  however,  allow  the  opportu- 
nity to  pass  without  expressing  our  surprise  that  the 
law  should  allow  such  abandoned  and  desperate 
characters  to  remain  in  possession  of  lethal  weap- 
ons.” Lethal  means  deadl3s  neither  more  nor  less  ; 
but  it  would  be  very  tame  and  unsatisfying  to  use 
an  expression  so  common  and  so  easily  understood. 
Another  journalist,  in  the  course  of  an  article  upon 
a murder,  says  of  the  murderer  that  " a policeman 
went  to  his  residence,  and  there  secured  the  clothes 
that  he  wore  when  he  committed  the  murderous 
deed ; ” and  that,  being  found  in  a tub  of  water, 
" they  were  so  smeared  by  blood  as  to  incarnadine 
the  water  of  the  tub  in  which  they  were  deposited.” 
To  say  that  "the  policeman  went  to  the  house  or 
room  of  the  murderer,  and  there  found  the  clothes 
he  wore  when  he  did  the  murder,  which  were  so 
bloody  that  they  reddened  the  water  into  which 
they  had  been  thrown,”  would  have  been  far  too 
homely. 

But  not  only  are  our  journals  and  our  speeches 
to  Buncombe  infested  with  this  big-worded  style, 
the  very  preambles  to  our  acts  of  legislature,  and 
the  official  reports  upon  the  diyest  and  most  matter- 
of-fact  subjects,  are  bloated  with  it.  It  appears  in 
the  full  flower  of  absurdity  in  the  following  sentence, 
which  I find  in  the  report  of  a committee  of  the 


32 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


legislature  of  New  York  on  street  railways.  The 
committee  wished  to  say  that  the  public  looked  upon 
all  plans  for  the  running  of  fast  trains  at  a height 
of  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  as  fraught  with  needless 
danger ; and  the  committee  man  who  wrote  for 
them  made  them  say  it  in  this  amazing  fashion  : — 

“It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  any  system -which  demands  the 
propulsion  of  cars  at  a rapid  rate,  at  an  elevation  of  fifteen  or 
twenty  feet,  is  not  entirely  consistent,  in  public  estimation,  with 
the  greatest  attainable  immunity  from  the  dangers  of  transpor- 
tation.” 

Such  a use  of  words  as  this  indicates  only  the 
lack  as  well  of  mental  vigor  as  of  good  taste  and 
of  education  on  the  part  of  the  user.  “ O,”  said 
a charming,  highly-cultivated,  and  thorough-bred 
woman,  speaking,  in  my  hearing,  of  one  of  ner 
own  sex  of  inferior  breeding  and  position,  but  who 
was  making  literary  pretensions,  and  with  some 
success  so  far  as  notoriety  and  money  were  con- 
cerned,— ”0,  save  me  from  talking  with  that  wo- 
man ! If  you  ask  her  to* come  and  see  you,  she 
never  says  she’s  sorry  she  can’t  come,  but  that 
she  regrets  that  the  multiplicity  of  her  engage- 
ments precludes  her  from  accepting  your  polite 
invitation.” 

The  foregoing  instances  are  examples  merely  of 
a pretentious  and  ridiculous  use  of  words  which  is 
now  very  common.  They  are  not  remarkable  for 
incorrectness.  But  the  freedom  with  which  per- 
sons who  have  neither  the  knowledge  of  language 
which  comes  of  culture,  nor  that  which  springs 
spontaneously  from  an  inborn  perception  and  mas- 
tery, are  allowed  to  address  the  public  and  to  speak 


BIG  WORDS  FOR  SMALL  THOUGHTS. 


33 


for  it,  produces  a class  of  writers  who  fill,  as  it  is 
unavoidable  that  they  should  fill,  our  newspapers 
and  public  documents  with  words  which  are  ridicu- 
lous, not  only  from  their  pretentiousness,  but  from 
their  preposterous  unfitness  for  the  uses  to  which 
they  are  put.  These  persons  not  only  write  abom- 
inably in  point  of  style,  but  they  do  not  say  what 
they  mean.  When,  for  instance,  a member  of 
Congress  is  spoken  of  in  a leading  journal  as  '*  a 
sturdy  republican  of  progressive  integrity,”  no  very 
great  acquaintance  with  language  is  necessary  to 
the  discovery  that  the  writer  is  ignorant  of  the 
meaning  either  of  progress  or  of  integrity.  When 
in  the  same  columns  another  man  is  described  as 
being  "endowed  with  an  impassionable  nature,” 
people  of  common  sense  and  education  see  that 
here  is  a man  not  only  writing  for  the  public,  but 
actually  attempting  to  coin  words,  who,  so  far  as 
his  knowledge  of  language  goes,  needs  the  instruc- 
tion to  be  had  in  a good  common  school.  So,  again, 
when  another  journal  of  position,  discoursing  upon 
convent  discipline,  tells  us  that  a young  woman  is 
not  fitted  for  "the  stern  amenities  of  religious  life,” 
and  we  see  it  laid  down  in  a report  to  an  important 
public  body  that,  under  certain  circumstances,  "the 
criminality  of  an  act  is  heightened,  and  reflects  a 
very  turgid  morality  indeed,”  it  is,  according  to  our 
knowledge,  whether  we  find  in  the  phrases  "stern 
amenities  ” and  " turgid  morality  ” occasion  for  study 
or  food  for  laughter. 

Writing  like  this  is  a fruit  of  a pitiful  desire  to 
seem  elegant  when  one  is  not  so,  which  troubles 
many  people,  and  which  manifests  itself  in  the  use 

3 


34 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


of  words  as  well  as  in  the  wearing  of  clothes, ‘the 
buying  of  furniture,  and  the  giving  of  entertain- 
ments ; and  which  in  language  takes  form  in  words 
which  sound  large,  and  seem  to  the  person  who 
uses  them  to  give  him  the  air  of  a cultivated  man, 
because  he  does  not  know  exactly  what  they  mean. 
Such  words  sometimes  become  a fashion  among 
such  people,  who  are  numerous  enough  to  set  and 
keep  up  a fashion ; and  they  go  on  using  them  to 
each  other,  each  afraid  to  admit  to  the  other  that 
he  does  not  know  what  the  new  word  means,  and 
equally  afraid  to  avoid  its  use,  as  a British  snob  is 
said  never  to  admit  that  he  is  entirely  unacquainted 
with  a duke.  Our  newspapers  and  reviews  are 
haunted  now  by  two  words  of  this  sort  — 7iormal 
and  maugurate.  In  the  North  American  Review 
itself  (I  name  this  review  because  of  its  very  high 
literary  position  — a position  higher  now  than  ever 
before)  a writer  is  permitted  to  say  that,  This  idea 
[that  of  a ship  without  a bowsprit]  was  doubtless 
a copy  of  the  model  inaugurated  by  Mr.  E.  K. 
Collins,  founder  of  the  Collins  line  of  American 
Ocean  Steamships.”  The  writer  meant  invented 
or  introduced ; and  he  might  as  well  have  written 
about  the  President  of  the  United  States  being  in- 
vented on  the  4th  of  March,  as  of  inaugurating 
the  model  of  a ship.  But  ere  long  we  shall  prob- 
ably have  the  milliners  inaugurating  their  bonnets, 
and  the  cooks  making  for  us  normal  plum-puddings 
and  pumpkin  pies.  But  normal  and  inaugurate^ 
and  a crowd  of  such  big  words,  are  now  used  as 
Bardolph  uses  accommodated^  which,  being  ap- 
proved by  Mr.  Justice  Shallow  as  a good  phrase. 


BIG  WORDS  FOR  SMALL  THOUGHTS. 


35 


he  replies,  " By  this  da}^  I know  not  the  phrase  ; but 
I will  maintain  the  word  with  my  sword  to  be  a 
soldier-like  word,  and  a word  of  exceeding  good 
command.  Accommodated  ; that  is,  when  a man 
is,  as  they  say  — accommodated;  or,  when  a man 
is  — being — whereby  — he  maybe  thought  to  be 
accommodated ; which  is  an  excellent  thing.” 

There  is  no  telling  to  what  lengths  this  desire  to 
speak  fine  will  lead.  It  breaks  out  very  strongly 
with  soiini  people  in  the  use  of  have  and  wcj'e. 
They  have  taken  into  their  heads  a hazy  notion 
of  the  superior  elegance  of  those  words  — as  to  the 
latter  from  having  heard  it  used  by  persons  who  are 
precise  as  to  their  subjunctive  mood ; how  as  to  the 
former  I cannot  conjecture.  So,  some  of  them, 
when  they  wish  to  be  very  fine  indeed,  say,  " I were 
going  to  Europe  last  fall,  but  were  prevented  by 
the  multiplicity  of  my  engagements,”  leaving  was 
in  the  company  of  plain  and  simple  folk.  I was 
witness  to  a characteristic  exhibition  of  this  kind  of 
pretence.  With  two  or  three  friends  I called  on 
business  at  the  house  of  a very  wealthy  man  in  the 
Fifth  Avenue,  Vv^hom  I had  never  met  before,  and 
who  has  since  gone  to  the  place  where  "all  good 
Americans  go  when  they  die.”  He  proposed  that 
we  should  ride  with  him  to  the  place  to  visit  which 
was  the  object  of  our  gathering,  and  he  stepped  out 
to  give  some  orders.  As  the  carriage  came  to  the 
door,  he  reentered  the  parlor,  and  approaching  our 
giOLip,  revolving  his  hands  within  each  other,  as  if 
troubled  by  a consciousness,  partly  reminiscence, 
that  they  needed  washing,  he  said  with  a little 
smirk,  "Gentlemen,  the  carriage  have  arrived.” 


36 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


We  stood  it,  as  sober  as  judges  ; but  one  of  us  soon 
made  an  execrable  pun,  which  afforded  opportunity 
for  laughter,  in  which  our  host,  as  ignorant  of  a 
play  upon  words  as  of  the  use  of  them,  heartily 
joined.  Now,  that  man,  if  he  had  been  speaking  to 
his  wife,  would  have  called  out,  Sairy  Ann,  the 
carriage  has  come,”  and  have  rivalled  Thackeray 
or  Hawthorne  in  the  correctness  of  his  English. 

We  are  suffering  now,  and  shall  suffer  more 
hereafter,  from  the  improper  use  of  words,  in 
a very  important  point,  to  wit,  the  drafting  of 
our  laws.  When  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  was  framed,  the  language  of  the  instru- 
ment was  considered  with  great  care.  Each  para- 
graph, after  having  been  discussed  in  committee 
and  in  full  convention,  and  its  purport  clearly  de- 
termined, was  submitted  to  the  revision  of  a com- 
mittee on  style,  and  it  was  not  adopted  until  it ‘had 
received  the  sanction  of  that  committee.  Hence 
it  is  that  there  is  hardly  a passage  in  the  whole 
Constitution  the  meaning  of  which  can  be  doubted ; 
the  disputes  about  the  Constitution  being,  almost 
without  exception,  not  as  to  what  it  provides,  but 
as  to  the  effects  of  its  provisions.  But  as  to  most 
of  the  lawo  passed  nowadays,  both  in  the  State 
and  nationa.  legislatures,  it  would  puzzle  those 
who  do  not  know  the  purpose  of  their  framers, 
to  discover  it  from  their  language  ; and  when  the 
present  generation  of  politicians  has  passed  away, 
these  laws,  if  they  last  until  that  time,  will  bear 
any  construction  that  any  court,  or  any  majority  of 
any  Congress,  chooses  to  put  upon  them;  which, 
perhaps,  in  the  view  of  the  latter,  will  be  an 


BIG  WORDS  FOR  SMALL  THOUGHTS.  37 

advantage.  Some  of  the  laws  passed  in  the  last 
two  sessions  of  Congress  have  little  more  coherence 
or  consistency  than  some  of  MotherGoose’s  rhymes. 
But  passing  by  such  laws  as  touch  great  questions 
of  public  policy,  and  as  to  which,  therefore,  it  might 
be  unreasonable  to  expect  our  present  legislators  to 
express  themselves  with  clearness  and  propriety, 
take,  for  example,  the  following  section  of  a bill 
brought  into  the  legislature  of  New  York  in  regard 
to  the  metropolitan  police  : — 

“ Section  i6.  The  Board  of  Metropolitan  Police  is  hereby 
authorized,  in  their  discretion,  to  pay  out  of  the  Police  Life  In- 
surance Fund  an  amount,  not  exceeding  three  hundred  dollars, 
to  the  members  of  the  force  who  may  be  disabled  while  in  the 
discharge  of  their  duties.  In  cases  of  death  by  injuries  received 
while  discharging  their  duties,  the  annuities  shall  be  continued 
to  the  widow,  or  children,  or  both,  as  the  Board  may  deem  best. 
The  Board  of  Metropolitan  Police  is  hereby  constituted  Trustees 
of  the  Life  Insurance  Fund.” 

Laying  no  stress  upon  such  English  as  "the 
board  is  authorized  in  discretion,”  and  "the 

board  is  constituted  trustees let  us  try  to  find  out 
what  it  is  that  the  board  is  authorized  to  do.  It  is 
"to  pay  an  amount  not  exceeding  three  hundred 
dollars  to  the  members  of  the  force  who  may  be 
disabled  while  in  the  discharge  of  their  duties.” 
That  is,  unmistakably,  according  to  the  language 
used,  to  pay  three  hundred  dollars  to  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  force  who  may  be  so  injured.  This 
seems  rather  a small  provision  for  the  purpose  in 
view;  as  to  which  there  is  still  further  uncertainty. 
For  who  are  all  the  members  of  the  force,  for  whom 
this  provision  is  made?  All  who  are  injured  during 
the  existence  of  the  board?  So  the  law  says,  and 


38 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


there  is  not  a word,  expressed  or  implied,  to  the 
contrary.  And  how  much  is  to  be  paid  to  each 
member?  There  is  not  a word  definitely  to  show. 
But  in  the  next  sentence,  which  oddly  says  that, 
" In  case  of  death  by  injuries  received  while  dis- 
charging their  duties,  the  annuities  shall  be  con- 
tinued to  the  widows  or  children  or  both,”  the  word 
annuities  gives  us  a hint  as  to  the  meaning  of  the 
law,  but  no  more.  Yet  it  is  safe  to  say  that  this 
section,  which  so  completely  fails  to  express  a 
simple  intention  as  to  the  payment  of  money  that 
any  construction  of  it  might  be  plausibly  disputed, 
was  supposed  by  its  framers  to  mean  what  it  does 
mean  in  the  corrected  form  following ; in  which  it 
would  have  been  written  by  any  tolerably  well- 
instructed  person  — any  person  of  sufficient  intelli- 
gence and  education  to  be  intrusted  with  the  writing 
of  an  official  letter  — much  more  the  drafting  of 
a law. 

“ The  Board  of  Police  is  hereby  authorized  in  its  discretion  to 
pay  out  of  the  Police  Life  Insurance  Fund  an  amount  not  ex- 
ceeding three  hundred  dollars,  a?i7iually,  to  every  7nember  of  the 
force  who  may  be  disabled  while  in  the  discharge  of  kis  duties. 
In  cases  of  death  fro77i  injuries  received  171  the  discharge  of  duty, 
the  annuities  shall  be  paid  to  the  widow  or  the  children  of  the 
deceased  777€7)iber,  or  to  both,  as  the  Board  may  deem  best.  The 
Board  of  Metropolitan  Police  is  hereby  constituted  the  Trustee 
of  the  Police  Life  Insurance  Fund.” 

There  are  laws  of  the  United  States,  enacted 
within  the  last  four  3^ears,  and  which  must  come  up 
before  the  courts,  and  finally  before  the  Supreme 
Couit,  as  the  ground  of  the  decision  of  important 
questions,  which  are  not  a whit  more  explicit  or 
coherent  than  this  example  of  the  style  of  late  New 
York  legislation.. 


BIG  WORDS  FOR  SMALL  THOUGHTS. 


39 


Language  being  perverted  in  this  country  chiefly 
in  consequence  of  the  wide  diffusion  of  very  super 
ficial  instruction  among  a restless,  money-getting, 
and  self-confident  people,  although  the  daily  press, 
is  the  chief  visible  corrupter  of  our  speech,  it  must  , 
be  admitted  that  the  latter  cause  of  degradation 
is  itself  the  consequence  of  the  former.  Our  news- 
papers do  the  harm  in  question  through  their  ad- 
vertisements as  well  as  through  their  reports,  their 
correspondence,  and  their  leading  articles ; and  it 
would  seem  as  if,  in  most  cases,  the  same  degree 
of  knowledge  of  the  meaning  of  words  and  of  their 
use  prevailed  in  all  these  departments.  The  style 
and  the  language  of  their  advertisements  and 
their  reading  matter  generally  indicate  the  careless 
confidence  of  a people  among  whom  there  is  little 
deference,  or  reference,  to  standards  of  authority. 
Competent  as  some  of  our  editors  are,  none  of  our 
newspapers  receive  thorough  editorial  supervision. 
What  is  sent  to  them  for  publication  would  be  gen- 
erally judged  by  a low  standard ; and  of  even  that 
judgement  the  public  too  frequendy  has  not  the 
benefit.  As  to  advertisements,  every  man  of  us 
deems  himself  able  to  write  them,  with  what  reason 
we  shall  soon  see ; while  in  England  the  writing  of 
even  these  is  generally  committed  to  persons  who 
have  some  knowledge  of  English  and  some  sense 
of  decorum.  But  here,  the  free,  independent,  and 
intelligent  American  citizen  produces  advertise- 
ments in  which  sense  and  decorum  are  set  at  naught 
with  an  absoluteness  that  speaks  more  for  his  free- 
dom and  his  independence  than  for  his  intelligence. 
To  pass  his  ordinary  performances  under  censure 


40 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


would  be  trivial,  if  not  superfluous ; there  is,  how- 
ever, a variety  of  his  species,  who  is  not  unworthy 
of  attention,  because  he  is  doing  much  to  debauch 
the  public  mind  — injuring  it  morally  as  well  as  in- 
tellectually. This  is  the  sensation  advertiser,  who 
sometimes  is  a publisher,  sometimes  a perfumer  ; at 
others  he  sells  fire-safes,  bitters,  sewing-machines, 
buchu,  houses  and  lands,  piano-fortes,  or  clothes- 
wringers.  But  whatever  his  wares,  his  English  is 
generally  vile,  and  his  tone  always  nauseous.  Here 
follows  a specimen  of  the  sort  of  riff-raff  of  lan- 
guage that  he  produces.  It  is  actually  a part  of  a 
lonec  advertisement  of  a "real  estate  a^^ent,”  which 
appeared  in  a leading  paper  in  the  interior  of  New 
York  : ~ 

“ I am  happy  to  inform  my  friends  especially  and  the 
public  generally,  that  1 have  entered  upon  the  new  year  “as 
sound  as  a nut.”  Tviy  ambition  is  at  bulkhead;  my  best  ef- 
forts shall  be  devoted  to  the  public.  I am  willing  to  live  on 
crumbs  and  small  fishes,  and  let  others  take  the  loaves  and 
sturgeon.  I am  still  dealing  largely  in  Real  Estate.  Encour- 
aged by  success  in  the  past,  I shall  buckle  on  the  harness  in  the 
future.  Therefore  “come  unto  me”  and  I will  “see”  what  I 
can  do  for  you.  I am  too  modest  to  speak,  even  in  a whisper, 
in  my  own  behalf,  but  am  willing  the  public  should  speak  in 
“thunder  tones.”  . . . Any  man  who  really  wants  to  buy  a 

farm,  small  oi  large,  I can  suit  him  ; also  cheap  houses  and  lots; 
also  cheap  "'ucant  lots.  ...  I am  also  looking  after  the 
soldier’s  interest.  Let  their  widows,  orphans,  parents,  etc.,  also 
the  poor  maimed  soldiers,  “come  unto  me”  for  pensions,  boun- 
ties, etc.,  for  they  have  my  deep-bosomed  sympathies.  I have  a 
very  cheap  house,  barn  and  very  large  lot,  with  trees,  and  splen- 
did garden  land,  some  ten  rods  deep,  to  sell  at  a low  figure;. 
“ Come  and  see.” 

This  gentleman,  whose  "ambition  is  at  bulk- 
head,” by  which,  if  he  meant  anything,  he  possibly 
meant  at  flood-tide,  who  tells  any  man  who  wants 


BIG  WORDS  FOR  SMALL  THOUGHTS.  4I 

to  buy  a farm  that  he  can  suit  him,  also  cheap 
houses  and  lots,  who  advertises  his  deep-bosomed 
sympathies,  who  calls  garden-land  splendid,  and 
who  interlards  his  hideous  attempt  at  humorous 
humbug  with  phrases  quoted  from  the  tenderest 
and  most  impressive  passages  of  the  Gospels,  may, 
nevertheless,  be  a decent  sort  of  person  outwardly, 
and  a shrewd  man  of  business.  Still,  althouorh  we 
may  be  obliged  to  put  a murderer  out  of  the  way  as 
we  would  a wild  beast,  the  murderer  might  be  a 
much  more  tolerable  sort  of  person  in  daily  life,  and 
work  less  diffusive  evil  than  this  advertiser.  He  is 
sure  to  do  some  harm,  and  if  he  should  be  a successful 
man,  as  he  probably  will  be,  he  can  hardly  fail  to  do 
a great  deal.  For  he  will  then  have  the  more  imita- 
tors. He  is  even  now  the  representative  of  a class 
of  men  which  increases  among  us  year  by  year  — 
men  whose  chief  traits  are  greed  and  vulgarity, 
who  often  get  riches,  and  whose  traits,  when  riches 
come,  are  still  greed  and  vulgarity,  with  the  ad- 
dition of  purse-pride  and  vanity.  Such  advertis- 
.ng  as  his  is  a positive  injury  to  public  morals  and 
public  taste ; and  it  is  much  to  be  desired  that  it 
could  be  excluded  from  all  respectable  newspapers. 
But  of  course  this  is  as  impossible  as  it  would  be  to 
exclude  rude,  ill-mannered  people  from  a hotel. 
Our  only  remedy  is  in  the  diffusion  of  a knowledge 
of  the  decencies  of  language  and  of  intercourse. 

As  a general  rule,  the  higher  the  culture,  the 
simpler  the  style  and  the  plainer  the  speech.  But 
it  is  equally  true  that,  for  rudeness  and  positive 
coarseness  in  the  use  of  language,  as  well  as  for 
affectation  and  pretence,  we  must  look  to  our  public 


42 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


representatives,  to  the  press,  and  to  the  members  cl 
our  various  legislative  bodies.  Here,  for  instance, 
is  a paragraph  from  a grave  and  very  earnest 
leading  article  upon  the  currency,  which  recently 
appeared  in  one  of  the  foremost  newspapers  in 
the  country.  The  subject  of  the  paragraph  is  a 
Treasury  note. 

“ The  United  States  paid  it  out  money,  and  received  for  it 
nearly  or  quite  as  much  value  as  though  it  had  been  a half 
eagle.  We  came  honestly  by  it  and  we  want  it  paid.  Yet,  if 
we  were  to  call  on  Mr.  Sub-Treasurer  Van  Dyke  and  ask  him  to 
fork  over  a half  eagle  and  take  up  the  rag,  he  would  politely  but 
firmly  decline.” 

A little  racy  slang  may  well  be  used  in  the  course 
of  one’s  daily  talk ; it  sometimes  expresses  that 
which  otherwise  would  be  difficult,  if  not  impossi- 
ble, of  expression.  But  what  is  gained  in  this  case 
by  the  use  of  the  very  coarse  slang  "fork  over” 
and  "take  up  the  rag”?  What  do  these  phrases 
express  that  is  not  quite  as  well  conveyed  in  the 
words  cash  the  note,  and  pay  the  note  in  gold?  It 
IS  quite  impossible  to  believe  that  this  offence  was 
committed  in  ignorance,  and  equally  so,  I hope, 
that  it  was  affected  with  the  purpose  of  writing  down 
;o  the  level  of  a certain  class  of  readers  — a trick 
which  may  win  their  present  favor,  but  which,  in 
the  end,  they  are  sure  to  resent.  It  is  rather  to  be 
assumed  that  this  phraseology  was  used  only  with 
that  careless  indifference  to  the  decencies  of  fife  and 
of  language  which  some  journalists  mistake  for 
smartness. 

Such  a use  of  language  as  that  which  has  just 
been  made  the  subject  of  remark,  although  common 


BIG  WORDS  FOR  SMALL  THOUGHTS. 


43 


in  our  newspapers,  in  Congress,  in  our  State  legis- 
latures, and  even  in  the  pulpits  of  certain  religious 
denominations,  is  not  a national  peculiarity.  On 
the  contrary,  there  are,  probably,  more  people 
in  this  country  than  in  any  other  to  whom  such  a 
style  of  writing  and  speaking  is  a positive  offence. 
But  the  wide  diffusion  of  just  so  much  instruction 
as  enables  men  to  read  their  newspapers,  write  their 
advertisements,  and  keep  their  accounts,  and  the 
utter  lack  of  deference  to  any  one,  or  of  doubt  in 
themselves,  which  political  equality  and  material 
prosperity  beget  in  people  having  no  more  than 
such  education,  and  no  less,  combine  to  produce  a 
condition  of  society  which  brings  their  style  of 
speech,  as  well  as  their  manners,  much  more  to 
the  front,  not  to  say  to  the  top,  than  is  the  case  in 
other  countries. 


44 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES 


CHAPTER  III. 

BRITISH  ENGLISH  AND  "AMERICAN”  ENGLISH. 

IT  has  been  frequently  asserted  by  British  critics 
that  even  among  the  best  educated  people  and 
the  very  men  of  letters  in  the  United  States,  the  Eng* 
lish  language  is  neither  written  nor  spoken  with  the 
clearness  and  strength  and  the  mastery  of  idiom  that 
are  common  among  the  people  of  Great  Britain. 
Boucher,  in  his  " Glossary,”  speaks  of  " Americans” 
as  " making  all  the  haste  they  can  to  rid  themselves 
of  the  [English]  language ; ” * and  Dean  Alford 
makes  a like  charge  in  a passage  of  his  " Queen’s 
English,”  which,  no  less  for  its  reasoning  than  for 
its  assertions,  deserves  entire  reproduction.  It 
would  be  ruthless  to  mar  so  complete  and  so  ex- 
quisite a whole. 

“ Look,  to  take  one  familar  example,  at  the  process  of  deterio- 
ration which  our  Qiieen’s  English  has  undergone  at  the  hands 
of  the  Americans.  Look  at  those  phrases  which  so  amuse  us  in 
their  speech  and  in  their  books;  at  their  reckless  exaggeration 
and  contempt  for  congruitj;  and  then  compare  the  character 
and  history  of  the  nation  — its  blunted  sense  of  moral  obligation 
and  duty  to  man,  its  open  disregard  of  conventional  right,  where 
aggrandizement  is  to  be  obtained;  and  I may  now  say  its  reck- 
less and  fruitless  maintenance  of  the  most  cruel  and  unprin- 
cipled war  in  the  history  of  the  world.” 


* Quoted  from  Scheie  de  Vere.  Boucher’s  “Glossary”  which  was  desigiied  as  a 
lupplement  to  Johnson’s  Dictionary,  1 have  not  read 


BRITISH  ENGLISH  ANE  AMERICAN  ENGLISH.  45 

Some  of  our  own  writers,  blindly  following,  I 
think,  blind  British  guides,  have  been  misled  into 
the  expression  of  like  opinions.  Mr.  Lowell,  in 
the  preface  to  his  second  series  of  the  ” Biglow 
Papers,”  makes  this  damaging  admission  : — 

“ Whether  it  be  want  of  culture,  for  the  highest  outcome  of 
culture  is  simplicity,  or  for  whatever  reason,  it  is  certain  that 
very  few  American  writers  and  speakers  wield  their  native  lan- 
guage with  the  directness,  precision,  and  force  that  are  as  com- 
mon as  the  day  in  the  mother  country.” 

Speaking  upon  the  careful  observation  of  several 
years,  I cannot  admit  the  justice  of  this  self-accusa- 
tion ; and  I must  express  no  little  surprise  at  the 
lack  of  qualification  and  reserve  in  Mr.  Lowell’s 
language,  which  I can  account  for  only  by  suppos- 
ing that  his  opinion  was  formed  upon  an  insufficient 
examination  of  this  subject.  It  is  true  that  the 
writers  and  speakers  of  that  very  large  class  among 
us  who  are  neither  learned  nor  unlearned,  and  who 
are,  therefore,  on  the  one  hand  without  the  sim- 
plicity that  comes  of  culture,  and  on  the  other 
incapable  of  that  unconscious,  intuitive  use  of  idiom 
which  gives  life  and  strength  to  the  . simple  speech 
of  very  humble  people,  do,  most  of  them,  use  lan- 
guage awkwardly,  and  as  if  they  did  not  feel  at 
home  in  their  own  mother  tongue.  If  it  were  not 
so  this  book  would  lack  one  reason  of  its  beingr. 
But  I do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  British  writers,  not 
of  the  highest  grade,  but  of  respectable  rank,  are 
open  to  the  same  charge  ; and,  moreover,  that  it  is 
more  generally  true  with  regard  to  them  than  with 
regard  to  writers  of  the  same  position  in  the  United 
States. 


46 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Mr.  Marsh,  in  the  last  of  his  admirable  "Lec- 
tures on  the  English  Language,”  expresses  an 
opinion  which,  on  the  whole,  is  more  nearly  like 
that  which  I have  formed  than  Mr.  Lowell’s,  not 
to  say  Dean  Alford’s.  But  Mr.  Marsh  himself  has 
this  passage : — 

“ In  general,  I think  we  may  say  that,  in  point  of  naked  syn- 
tactical accuracy,  the  English  of  America  is  not  at  all  inferior  to 
that  of  England;  but  we  do  not  discriminate  so  precisely  in  the 
meaning  of  words;  nor  do  we  habitually,  either  in  conversation 
or  in  writing,  express  ourselves  so  gracefully  or  employ  so 
classic  a diction  as  the  English.  Our  taste  in  language  is  less 
fastidious,  and  our  licenses  and  inaccuracies  are  more  frequently 
of  a character  indicative  of  a want  of  refinement  and  elegant 
culture  than  those  we  hear  in  educated  society  in  England.” 

But  here  Mr.  Marsh  himself  indicates  the  point 
of  my  objection  to  all  these  criticisms.  He  com- 
pares our  average  speech  with  that  of  educated 
society  in  the  mother  country.  By  such  a com- 
parison it  would  be  strange  if  we  did  not  suffer. 
The  just  and  proper  comparison  would  be  between 
the  average  speech  of  both  countries,  or  between 
that  of  people  of  equal  culture  in  both. 

Among  living  writers  few  have  easier  mastery  of 
idiomatic  English  than  Mr.  Lowell  hirnself ; and 
setting  aside  peculiar  gifts,  as  imagination,  fancy, 
humor,  many  New  England  men  of  the  present 
generation  and  of  that  which  is  passing  away 
are  of  his  school,  if  not  of  his  form.  There  have 
been  abler  statesmen  and  more  accomplished  law- 
yers, but  has  this  century  produced  anywhere  a 
greater  rhetorical  master  of  English  than  Daniel 
Webster?  While  Hawthorne  lived , — and  his  grave 
Is  not  yet  as  green  as  his  memory,  — was  there  a 


BRITISH  ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  ENGLISH. 

British  writer  who  used  with  greater  purity  or  more 
plastic  power  the  language  that  we  brought  with 
us  from  the  old  home?  Our  very  kinsmen  them- 
selves, proud  in  their  possession  of  the  old  home- 
stead, the  plate,  the  books,  and  the  portraits,  made 
no  such  pretension  ; but  they  settled  the  question 
for  their  own  minds,  by  saying  that  Hawthorne 

was  not  really  an  American  writer.”  And  Haw- 
thorne’s case  is  not  singular  in  this  respect.  The 
^'vSaturday  Review,”  in  an  article  upon  what  it  calls 
''American  Literature,”  recently  said,  — 

“ There  is  very  little  that  is  American  about  American  books, 
if  we  except  certain  blemishes  of  style  and  a certain  slovenliness 
of  grammar  and  clumsiness  of  expression  derived  from  the  colo- 
nial idioms  of  the  country;  and  these  are  'watiting  in  the  best 
American  ^writers.  Longfellow,  Motley,  Prescott,  Washington 
Irving  are  07ily  English  Tvr iters  ■who  happen  to  prmt  ifi  America. 
Poe’s  eccentricities  are  rather  individual  than  national.  Cooper 
is  American  in  little  but  his  choice  of  subjects.”  * 

And  not  long  ago  the  London  " Spectator,”  which 
ought  to  have  known  better,  declared  that  it  is  not 
among  the  eminent  historians,  poets,  and  essay- 
ists of  America  that  we  must  look  for  American 
style,  but  to  the  journalists,  politicians,  and  pam- 
phleteers. A more  ingenious  way  of  establishing  a 
point  to  one’s  own  satisfaction  than  that  adopted  by 
both  these  British  critics  could  not  be  devised. 
Proposition  : The  " American  ” style  is  full  of  blem- 
ishes ; it  is  slovenly  in  grammar  and  clumsy  in 
expression.  Reply : But  here  are  certain  histori- 
ans, novelists,  poets,  and  essayists,  who  are  the 
standard  writers  of  "America,”  and  in  whose  Hyle 


♦ I am  glad  to  read  this  about  Cooper.  I shall  fight  with  no  one  for  possesaio® 
tis  literary  fame. 


48 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


the  blemishes  in  question,  as  you  3murself  admit, 
"are  wanting.”  Rcjomder : But  these  are  not 
"American”  writers.  They  are  English  writers 
who  happen  to  print  in  "America^”  The  "Ameri- 
can ” writers  in  " America  ” are  those  only  who 
have  the  blemishes  in  question.  E.  D.  What 
a bewitching  merry-go-round  such  reasoning  is ! 
And  so  perfect ! It  stops  exactly  at  the  point  from 
which  it  started. 

Without  picking  out  my  examplars,  I will  take 
up  the  last  two  books  by  British  authors  that  I have 
read  for  pleasure  — both  by  men  of  note  — Mr. 
John  Forster’s  "Arrest  of  the  Five  Members,”  and 
Mr.  Froude’s  " History  of  England,”  and  turning  to 
passages  which  I remember  noticing  amid  all  my 
interest  in  the  narratives  themselves,  I quote ; and 
first  from  Forster:  — 

“ Since  his  coming  to  town  he  had  been  greatly  pleased  to 
observe  a very  great  alteratio7t  of  the  affections  of  the  city  to 
'what  they  had  beeti  when  he  went  away.”  — p.  21. 

This  is  not  English,  or  at  least  it  is  English 
wretchedly  deformed  and  crippled.  If  the  affec- 
tions of  the  city  were  altered  to  what  they  were 
when  the  person  spoken  of  went  away,  it -is  implied 
that  there  had  been  two  changes  during  his  absence, 
one  from  the  condition  in  which  he  left  the  city,  and 
one  again  to  that  in  which  he  left  it.  We  have  to 
guess  that  the  writer  meant  that  the  person  in  ques- 
tion observed  a very  great  change  in  the  affections 
of  the  city  since  he  went  away.  The  blunder  in 
the  bungling  phrase  " alteration  of  the  affections  to 
what  they  had  been,”  which  is  a variety  of  the 
phrase  " different  /i?,”  is  peculiarly  British. 


BRITISH  ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  ENGLISH.  49 


The  faults  in  the  two  following  passages  are 
such  as  are  found  in  the  writings  of  natives  of  both 
countries  : — 

“ Nor  was  it  possible  that  Charles  himself  should  have  drawn 
any  other  construction  from  it.  [An^lice,  put  any  other  con- 
struction upon  it.]”  — p.  23. 

“ Captai'.t  Slingsby  wrote,  with  an  alarm  which  he  hardly 
attempts  S^Angl.^  attempted]  to  conceal,  of  the  displays  of  man- 
ifestations of  feeling  from  the  city.”  — p.  28. 

Could  the  reverse  of  directness  and  precision,  to 
say  nothing  of  force,  have  more  striking  example 
than  such  a phrase  as  " the  displays  of  manifesta- 
tions of  feeling  from  the  city”?  which  we  may  be 
sure  any  intelligent  and  passably  educated  Yankee 
lad  would  change  into  "manifestations  of  feeling  by 
[or  in]  the  city.”  Now  let  us  turn  to  Froude,  whose 
slips  will  be  pointed  out  almost  without  remark  : — 

“ She  [Elizabeth]  gave  him  to  understand  that  her  course 
was  chosen  at  last;  she  would  accept  the  Archduke,  and  would 
be  2i\\xvhich  \_Angl.,  tha.i]  the  Emperor  could  desire.”  — Vol. 
VIII.,  c.  10. 

“ The  English  Admiral  was  scarcely  in  the  Channel  than  he 
was  driven  \^Augl.,  before  he  was  driven]  by  a gale  into  Low- 
estoft Roads,  and  was  left  there  for  a fortnight  motionless.”  — 
Vol.  VIE,  c.  3. 

“A  husband,  on  receiving  news  of  the  sudden  and  violent 
death  of  a lady  in  whom  he  had  so  near  an  interest,  might  have 
been  expected  to  have  at  least  go?ie  [Angl.,  might  have  been  ex- 
pected at  least  to  go]  in  person  to  the  spot.”  — Vol.  VII.,  c.  4. 

“ The  Pope  might  succeed,  and  most  likely  would  succeed  at 
last  in  reconciling  Spain;  and  experience  proved  that  England 
lay  formidably  open  \_Angl.,  perilously  or  alarmingly  open]  to 
attack.”  — Vol.  III.,  c.  14. 

“At  eight  o’clock  the  advance  began  to  move,  each  division 
being  attended  by  one  hundred  and  twenty  outriders  to  keep 
stragglers  into  line  \_Angl.^  in  line.]”  — Vol.  III.,  c.  15. 

“ If  the  tragedy  of  Kirk  a Field  had  possessed  a claim  fof 
notice  \^Angl.,  to  notice]  on  the  first  of  these  grounds,”  etc. — 
Voi.  IX.,  c.  13,  p.  1. 

^ 4 


50 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


“ Elizabeth  regarded  this  unfortunate  woman  with  a detesta- 
tion and  contempt  beyond  'what  she  had  felt  at  the  woist  times 
for  Mary  Stuart.  {^Angl.^  with  far  greater  detestation  ind  con- 
tempt than  she  had  ever  felt  for  Mary  Stuart. J” — Ibid.,  p.  .ti. 

“ — and  those  who  were  apparently  as  guilty  as  Bothwell 
himself  were  yet  assuming  an  attitude  to  him  {^Angl.,  tOAvard 
him]  at  one  moment  of  cringing  subserviency  [a  writer  of  Mr. 
Froude’s  gi*ade  should  have  said  “subservience”],  and  at  the 
next  of  the  fiercest  indignation.”  — Ibid.,  p.  26. 

“ — and  had  Darnley  proved  the  useful  Catholic  'which  the 
Queen  intended  him  to  be,  they  would  have  sent  him  to  his 
account  with  as  small  compunction  as  Jael  sent  the  Canaatiite 
captaiti,  or  they  would  have  blessed  the  arm  that  did  it  'with  as 
much  eloquetice  as  Deborahi'  — Ibid.,  c.  14,  p.  127. 

Here,  to  get  at  the  writer’s  meaning  from  what 
he  has  written,  we  must  ask.  How  small  com- 
punction did  Jael  send  the  Canaanite  captain?  and. 
What  degree  of  eloquence  did  the  arm  attain  that 
did  it  with  as  much  as  Deborah?  What  was  it? 
and'  how  much  eloquence  is  Deborah?  The  sen- 
tence is  so  marked  with  slovenliness  of  grammar 
and  clumsiness  of  expression,  it  is  so  lacking  in 
directness,  precision,  and  force,  that  it  can  be  bet- 
tered only  by  being  almost  wholly  re-written.  We 
are  all  able  to  guess,  but  only  to  guess,  that  what 
Mr.  Froude  means  is,  that  the  persons  of  whom  he 
speaks  would  have  sent  Darnley  to  his  account  with 
as  little  compunction  as  Jael  felt  when  she  sent  the 
Canaanite  captain  to  his,  or  would  have  blessed  with 
the  eloquence  of  Deborah  the  arm  that  did  their 
pleasure.  The  blundering  construction  of  which 
this  last  passage  furnishes  such  a striking  example 
is  of  a kind  frequently  met  with  in  British  writers 
of  a rank  inferior  to  Mr.  Froude’s ; but  it  is  rarely 
found  in  "American”  books  or  even  in  "American” 
newspapers.  From  Mr.  Froude  I shall  further 


BRITISH  ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  ENGLISH.  5 1 


select  only  the  three  following  passages ; the  first 
containing  a misuse  of  would  and  which  — test 
words  as  to  the  mastery  of  idiom  — the  second  a 
specimen  of  French  English,  and  the  third  com- 
bining a misapplication  of  words  with  a miscon- 
struction of  the  sentence  : — 

‘‘The  Bishop  of  Ross  undertook  that  his  mistress  do 

anything  'which  S^Angl.^  should  do  anything  that]  the  Qiieen 
of  England  and  the  nobility  desired.”  — Chap.  XVII.,  p.  432. 

“ Hepburn  of  Bolton,  one  of  the  last  of  Bothwell’s  servants 
who  had  been  brought  to  trial,  spoke  distinctly  to  have  seen 
\^Angl.,  of  having  seen]  one  of  them.”  — Chap.  XV.,  p.  199. 

“Edward  IV.,  when  he  landed  at  Ravenspurg,  and  Elizabeth’s 
grandfather  befoi'e  Bosworth  Field  had  fainter  grounds  to  antici^ 
;pate  success  than  the  farty  who  was  now  preparing  to  snatch 
England  out  of  the  hands  of  revolution,  and  restore  the  ancient 
order  in  Church  and  State.” — Chap.  XVII.,  p.  73. 

A man  may  be  said  to  have  grounds  on  which  to 
rest  hope  of  success,  or  anticipation  of  success ; or 
even,  perhaps,  grounds  of  anticipating  success  ; and 
those  grounds  may  be  strong  or  weak,  sufficient  or 
insufficient ; but  such  a phrase  as  ” fainter  grounds 
to  anticipate  success,”  in  its  misuse  of  the  infinitive, 
must  be  pronounced  slovenly,  and  in  its  vague, 
groping  way  of  handling  a metaphor  so  common 
as  to  be  almost  an  idiom,  clumsy.  But  how  much 
worse  than  this  is  the  succeeding  phrase,  the 'party 
who  was  now  preparing,  etc.” ! It  would  have 
been  easy,  it  seems,  to  write  "the  party  which  was 
now  preparing,”  or,  "the  party  who  were  now  pre- 
paring,” and  to  one  of  these  forms  Mr.  Fronde 
must  change  his  sentence  if  he  wishes  it  to  be  Eng- 
lish ; unless,  indeed,  he  means  to  speak  of  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk  (the  head  of  the  revolution  in 
question)  as  a very  dangerous  "party.” 


\VL 


52 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Turning  to  the  books  and  papers  lying  on  my 
table,  I find  two  novels  by  British  authors  of  well- 
deserved  repute. 

Mr.  Trollope’s  " Phineas  Finn  ” is  full  of  examples 
of  the  following  afiected  and  inverted  construc- 
tion : — 

“ He  felt  that  she  moved  him  — that  she  made  him  ac- 
knowledge to  himself  how  great  would  be  the  pitj  of  such  a 
failure  as  'would  be  his'’’  — Chap.  LXIX. 

“ — one  who  had  received  so  many  of  her  smiles  as  had 
Phineas."  — Chap.  LXXII. 

The  same  writer,  in  the  following  sentence,  falls 
in  with  a vulgar  perversion  of  aggi'avate,  using  it 
in  the  sense  of  irritate,  worry  : — 

“This  arose  partly  from  a belief  that  the  quarrel  was  final, 
and  that  therefore  there  would  be  no  danger  in  aggravating 
Violet  by  this  expression  of  pity.”  — Chap.  LXXIII. 

Mr.  Charles  Reade’s  last  novel  furnishes  in 
only  one  of  its  monthly  parts  the  following  sen- 
tences : — 

“Well,  farmer,  then  let's  you  and  / go  \^Angl.,  let’s  go,  or. 
let  you  and  me  go]  by  ourselves.” — Put  Yourself  in  his  Place, 
Chap.  X. 

“ And  while  he  hesitated,  the  lady  asked  him  rvas  he  come 
[Angl.,  if  he  was,  or,  if  he  had,  come]  to  finish  the  buSt.” — Ibid. 

“ Ere  he  thoroughly  recovered  the  shock  \^Angl.,  recovered  from 
the  shock]  a wild  cry  arose.” — Ibid. 

Mr.  Reade  is  one  of  the  most  vivid  and  dramatic 
of  modern  novelists  ; but  are  these  examples  of  the 
directness,  precision,  and  force,  and  the  mastery 
of  idiom,  which  are  "as  common  as  the  day  in  the 
mother  country”? 

Taking  up  the  last  London  "Spectator,” — a paj^er 
of  the  very  highest  rank,  — I find  this  sentence  ii; 


BRITISH  ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  ENGLISH.  53 


a careful,  critical  review  of  Lightfoot’s  " Saint  Paul’s 
Epistle  to  the  Galatians  : ” — 

“But  we  must  return  to  the  Galatians.  We  are  called  on  to 
believe  that  the  inspiration  of  this  letter  derives  from  a wholly 
different  source  tha7i  does  that  of  the  apostles.  \_Avgl.^  is  de* 
rived  from  a source  wholly  different  from  that  of  the  apostles.]” 

In  the  same  copy  of  the  "Spectator,”  I also  find  the 
following  amazing  sentences  among  the  quotations 
from  " Select  Biographical  Sketches,”  by  William 
Heath  .Bennett.  The  passage’  relates  to  the  last 
known  instance  of  the  infliction  of  ecclesiastical 
penance  in  England,  which  took  place  in  1812. 

“ She  was  herself  a pauper,  and  her  father  also,  but  who  had 
managed  to  contribute  to  her  maintenance  in  jail  from  the 
charity  of  others.  This  sentence  of  penance,  although  pro- 
nounced in  general  terms,  her  friends  could  never  obtain  from 
the  ecclesiastical  authorities  how  it  was  to  be  complied  with,  ex- 
cept that  she  was  to  appear  in  a w'hite  sheet  in  the  church  with 
a burning  candle  in  her  hand,  and  repeat  some  formula  pre- 
scribed by  the  old  law.” 

The  reviewer  quotes  other  passages  which  sup- 
port his  opinion  that  the  style  of  this  book  is  slip- 
shod and  often  ungrammatical.  But  the  author 
is  a barrister  at  law,  and  might  reasonably  be 
expected  to  write  intelligibly,  if  not  elegantly.  Had 
he  been,  however,  not  a British,  but  an  "American” 
law3^er,  the  "Spectator”  and  the  "Saturday  Re- 
view,” the  Dean  of  Canterbury  (and  shall  we  say 
Mr.  Lowell?)  would  have  pronounced  his  style  not 
slipshod  and  ungrammatical,  but  "American”  — in 
a certain  slovenliness  of  manner  and  clumsiness  of 
expression,  and  in  a lack  of  precision,  distinctness, 
and  force,  that  are  as  common  as  the  day  in  the 
mother  countrj^  How  common  they  are  the  reader 


54 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


is  now,  perhaps,  better  prepared  to  say  than  he  was 
before  he  began  to  read  this  chapter.  For  the  pas- 
sages above  quoted  are  selected  from  many  that 
were  open  to  like  censure ; and  they  were  chosen 
less  because  of  the  gravity  of  their  offences  against 
the  laws  of  the  English  language  than  because  they 
were  impressive  examples  of  the  lack  of  the  very 
qualities  which,  Mr.  Lowell  tells  us,  are  so  common 
in  England,  and  the  lack  of  which  the  "Saturday 
Review,”  Dean  Alford,  and  all  of  their  sort  will 
have  it,  are  the  peculiar,  the  distinguishing  traits 
of  those  writers  whom  they  call  "American.”  And 
these  passages  were  not  sought  out,  it  should  be 
remembered;  nor  are  they,  most  of  them,  taken 
from  the  writings  of  inferior  men.  They  lay  in  the 
way  of  every-day  reading,  and  are  from  books  and 
papers  of  high  rank  in  contemporary  British  litera- 
ture. Yet  I venture  to  say  that  it  would  be  difficult 
to  find  in  the  writings  of  " American  ” authors  and 
journalists  of  corresponding  position  passages  in 
which  mustery  of  idiom,  directness,  precision,  and 
force  are  as  conspicuously  absent.  Let  us,  for  one 
more  example  in  point,  turn  to  a British  author  of 
less  repute  tlfan  Mr.  Forster,  or  Mr,  Fronde,  or  Mr. 
Charles  Reade,  but  of  respectable  standing,  and 
turn  to  him  merely  because  he  may  reasonably  be 
taken  as  a fair  example  of  the  British  writer  of 
average  literary  ability  and  culture,  and  because 
the  passage  which  I shall  quote  is  one  of  two  or 
three  which  I noticed  while  consulting  the  work 
from  which  it  is  taken  — the  well-known  Natural 
History  by  the  Rev.  J.  G.  Wood,  M.  A.,  F.  L.  S.f 
etc.,  etc. 


BRITISH  ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  ENGLISH.  55 

“All  external  objects  are,  in  their  truest  sense,  visible  cm' 
bodiments  or  incarnations  of  divine  ideas,  which  are  roughly 
sculptured  in  the  hard  granite  that  underlies  the  living  and 
breathing  surface  of  the  world  above;  pencilled  in  delicate  tra- 
cery upon  each  bark-flake  that  encompasses  the  trunk-tree,  each 
leaf  that  trembles  in  the  breeze,  each  petal  that  fillc  the  air  with 
fragrant  effluence  ; assuming  a living  and  breathing  existence  in 
the  rhytlimic  throbbings  of  the  heart-pulse  that  urges  the  life- 
stream  through  the  body  of  every  animated  being;  and  attaining 
their  greatest  perfection  in  man,  who  is  thereby  bound  by  the 
very  fact  of  his  existence  to  outspeak  and  outact  the  divine 
ideas,  which  are  the  true  instincts  of  humanity,  before  they  are 
crushed  or  paralyzed  by  outward  circumstances.  . . . Until 

man  has  learned  to  realize  his  own  microcosmal  being,  and  will 
himself  develop  and  manifest  the  god-thoughts  that  are  con- 
tinually inbreathed  into  his  very  essential  nature,  it  needs  that 
the  creative  ideas  should  be  incarnated  and  embodied  in  every 
possible  form,  so  that  they  may  retain  a living  existence  upon 
earth.” 

Any  Yankee  of  ordinary  sense  and  moderately 
cultivated  taste  would  set  this  passage  down  as  a 
fine  specimen  of  stilted  feebleness  — in  its  style  a 
very  travesty  of  English.  But  it  was  written  by  a 
clergyman  of  the  English  church,  a graduate  of  one 
of  the  universities,  a man  who  has  attained  some 
distinction  as  a naturalist,  and  who  has  half  a score 
of  letters  after  his  name.  The  truth  is,  that  when 
the  English  of  British  authors  is  spoken  of,  it  is 
not  that  of  such  writers  as  Mr.  Wood,  but  that 
of — well,  of  such  as  Forster  and  Froude?  — let  us 
rather  say  of  such  as  Macaulay,  Thackera}^,  Helps, 
and  George  Eliot,  as  Johnson,  Burke,  Hume,  Gib- 
bon, Goldsmith  and  Cobbett.  But  when  British 
critics  speak  of  the  English  of  "American”  writers, 
they  leave  out  Irving,  Prescott  and  Motley,  Haw- 
thorne, Poe  and  Longfellow,  as  we  have  seen,  and 
others  less  known,  like  Lowell,  Story,  and  Howells, 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


56 

who  write  in  the  same  idiom ; and  they  look  for 
"American”  writers,  not  even  among  our  thorough- 
ly-educated men  of  letters  of  the  second  or  third 
rank,  but  to  newspapers,  v/ritten  generally  by  men 
of  average  common-school  education,  little  training, 
and  no  gift  of  language,  and  for  the  heterogeneous 
public  of  the  large  cities  of  a country  in  which  every 
other  Irish  hackman  and  hodman  keeps  not  only 
his  police  justice,  but  his  editor.  That  there  are 
journalists  in  this  country  whose  English  is  irre- 
proachable, no  one  competent  to  speak  upon  this 
subject  will  deny.  But  they  are  they  who  will 
admit  most  readily  the  justice  of  these  strictures. 

Upon  the  vexed  question  whether,  on  the  whole, 
English  is  better  spoken  throughout  the  United 
States  than  throughout  Great  Britain,  I do  not  deem 
myself  competent  to  express  a decided  opinion  ; but 
of  this  I feel  sure  — that  of  the  mother  tongue  com 
mon  to  the  people  of  both  countries,  no  purer  form  is 
known  to  the  Old  England  than  to  the  New.  If  in 
an  assemblage  of  a hundred  educated,  well-bred 
people,  one  half  of  them  from  London,  Oxford,  and 
Liverpool,  and  the  other  from  Boston,  New  York, 
and  Philadelphia  (and  I have  more  than  ,once  been 
one  of  a company  so  composed,  although  not  so 
large),  a ready  and  accurate  phonographer  were  to 
take  down  every  word  spoken  during  an  evening’s 
entertainment,  I feel  quite  sure  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  distinguish  in  his  printed  report  the  speech 
of  the  Britons  from  that  of  the  "Americans,”  except 
by  the  possible  occurrence  of  acknowledged  local 
slang,  01  by  the  greater  prevalence  among  the  for- 
mer or  the  latter  of  peculiar  words,  or  words  used  ic 


BRITISH  ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  ENGLISH.  57 

peculiar  senses,  which  would  be  acknowledged  to 
be  incorrect  as  well  by  the  authorities  of  the  party 
using  them  as  by  those  of  the  other  party.  In  brief, 
their  spoken  language,  reproduced  instantly  in  writ- 
ing, could  be  distinguished  only  by  some  confessed" 
license  or  defect,  peculiar  to  one  country,  or  more 
prevalent  there  than  in  the  other.  And  I am  strong- 
ly inclined  to  the  opinion  that,  the  assemblage  being 
made  up  of  educated  and  well-bred  persons,  there 
would  be  somewhat  more  slang  heard  from  the  Brit- 
ish than  from  the  " American  ” half  of  the  company, 
and  also  a greater  number  of  free  and  easy  devia- 
tions from  correct  English  speech,  according  to 
British  .as  well  as  "American”  authority.  The 
standard  in  both  countries  is  the  same. 

But  although  the  written  speech  of  these  people 
would  be  to  this  degree  indistinguishable,  an  ear  at 
all  nice  in  its  hearing  would  be  able  to  separate  the 
sheep  from  the  goats  by  their  bleat.  The  difference 
would  be  one  not  of  pronunciation  (for  the  standard 
of  pronunciation  is  also  the  same  in  both  countries, 
and  well-educated  people  in  both  conform  to  it  with 
like  habitual  and  unconscious  ease),  but  of  pitch 
of  voice,  and  of  inflection.  Among  those  of  both 
countries  who  had  been  from  their  birth  accustomed 
to  the  society  of  cultivated  people,  even  this  dis- 
tinction would  be  made  with  difflculty,  and  would, 
in  many  cases,  be  impossible.  But  the  majority  of 
one  half  hundred  could  thus  be  distinguished  from 
the  majority  of  the  other  ; and  the  superiority  would 
be  greatly  on  the  side  of  the  British  fifty.  The 
pitch  of  the  British  Englishman’s  voice  is  Tigher 
and  more  penetrating  than  the  American  English- 


S8 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


man’s,  and  his  inflections  are  more  varied  than  the 
other’s,  because  they  more  frequently  rise.  The 
voice  of  the  former  is  generally  formed  higher  in 
the  throat  than  that  of  the  latter,  who  speaks  from 
the  chest  with  a graver  monotone.  Thackeray  and 
Goldwin  Smith  are  characteristic  examples  on  the 
one  side,  Daniel  Webster  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher 
on  the  other.  The  distinction  to  a delicate  ear  is 
very  marked  ; but  other  difference  than  this  of  pitch 
and  inflection  there  is  none  whatever.  Pronuncia- 
tion is  exactly  the  same.  And  even  in  regard  to 
pitch  and  inflection,  there  is  not  so  much  difference 
between  the  average  British  Englishman  of  culture 
and  the  average  American  Englishman  of  like  train- 
ing, as  there  is  between  the  Yorkshireman  and  the 
Norfolkman  ; and  there  is  very  much  more  difference 
between  the  pronunciation  and  the  idiom  of  the 
two  latter  than  there  is  between  the  speech  of  any 
two  men  of  the  same  race  born  and  bred,  however 
remotely  from  each  other,  in  this  country. 

In  imagining  my  assemblage  by  which  to  test 
speech  and  language,  I have  left  altogether  out  of 
mind  those  people  who,  in  one  country,  would,  for 
instance,  deal  hardly  Vv^ith  the  letter  //,  or  turn  the 
g in  "nothing”  to  and  the  v in  "veal”  to 
although  this  class  includes,  as  I have  noticed,  and 
as  Dean  Alford  confesses,  some  clergymen  of  the 
Church  of  England  ; and,  in  the  other,  those  who 
speak  with  a nasal  twang,  although  this  class  im 

* Theodore  Hook  thus  wittily  illustrated  this  peculiar  mispronunciation : — 

“With  Cockney  gourmands  great’s  the  difference  wIietLer 
At  home  they  stay  or  forth  to  Paris  go ; 

For  as  they  linger  here  or  wander  thither, 

The  flesh  of  calves  to  them  is  weal  or  weatt,*' 


BRITISH  ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  ENGLISH.  59 

dudes,  as  we  all  know,  some  persons  of  similar 
position  in  "America.”  The  point  is,  that  those  who 
would  be  regarded,  in  their  own  country,  as  among 
the  best  speakers  and  writers,  conform  to  precisel}^ 
the  same  standard  of  language  in  all  particulars.  ^ 
From  the  speech  of  these  the  variations  in  both 
countries,  but  chiefly  in  England,  are  manifold.  It 
is  in  these  variations,  degraded  or  dialectic,  that 
local,  or  what  may  be  called  national,  peculiarities 
appear.  But,  in  judging  of  the  degree  of  purity  in 
which  our  mother  tongue  is  preserved  by  our  British 
kinsmen,  we  must  judge  only  by  those  among  them 
whose  speech  they  themselves  regard  as  pure.  To 
do  otherwise  would  be  manifestly  unfair.  And  in 
trying  ourselves  upon  this  point  we  must  be  careful 
to  form  our  opinion  by  a like  rule  of  evidence  ; 
otherwise  we  may  find  ourselves  condemning  the 
nation  upon  the  language  of  a man  who,  fifteen 
or  twenty  years  ago,  was  an  oysterman  or  a bar- 
tender, and  who,  since  that  time,  has  added  much 
to  his  possessions,  but  nothing  to  his  general  knowl- 
edge or  his  right  use  of  language  — a change  which, 
however  profitable  and  pleasant  it  may  be  to  his 
children,  seems  in  him  deplorable. 

Dean  Alford  makes  merry  over  a story  of  an 
"American  friend”  who  ventured  to  speak,  in  Eng- 
land, of  the  " strong  English  accent  ” which  he  heard 
around  him.  The  dean  evidently  thinks  that  this 
is  quite  as  if  an  Englishman  were  to  go  to  France, 
and  tell  the  people  there,  in  the  "French  of  Strat- 
ford at  Bow,”  that  they  spoke  with  a strong  French 
accent.  It  is  nothing  of  the  sort.  An  educated 
Genevan  Frenchman,  for  instance,  visiting  Paris, 


6o 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


and  offended,  — as  well  he  might  be,  — by  the  ac- 
cent of  the  mass  of  the  people  around  him,  might 
complain  of  the  strong  Parisian  accent  with  which 
they  spoke  ; and  this  case  would  correspond  to  that 
which  the  Dean  of  Canterbury  has  cited.  Should  it 
happen,  however,  I doubt  if  a French  dignitary  of 
the  church  would  flout  the  objection  on  the  ground 
that  Paris  is  in  France  and  Geneva  in  Switzerland; 
for  he  would  know,  as  a general  truth,  that  lan- 
guage belongs  to  race,  not  to  place,  and  as  a par- 
ticular fact,  that  the  best  French  is  spoken  at 
Geneva. 

The  English  accent  which  Dean  Alford’s  " Amer- 
ican ” friend  noticed  with  implied  disapproval,  — 
although  common,  and  even  general,  among  South 
Britons  (it  rarely  taints  North  British  speech),  — is 
not  heard  among  cultivated  people,  or  approved  by 
any  authority  on  either  side  of  the  water.  It  can 
be  described,  I think,  so  that  Dean  Alford  himself, 
and  most  of  his  friends  and  neighbors, — certainly 
the  best  bred  and  educated  among  them,  — would 
recognize  it  in  the  description.  One  of  the  persons 
in  question  asking,  for  instance,  for  a glass  of  ale, 
would  pronounce  glass  with  the  broad  ah  sound  of 
a^  to  rhyme  with  -pass^  and  ale  as  one  syllable  with 
the  first  or  name  sound  of  <2,  so  as  to  rhyme  with 
male  and  sail.  So  would  every  Yankee  of  like 
culture.  But  let  our  Very  Reverend  and  accom- 
plished censor  kindly  take  a well-bred  mouthful  of 
finely-mashed  potato,  and  after  chewing  it  a deco- 
rous while,  say,  just  as  he  is  about  swallowing  it, 
''a  gloss  oi  ayull he  and  the  friends  around  him 
will  then  hear  a striking  example  of  what  his 


BRITISH  ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  ENGLISH.  6 1 


■'  American  ” friend  called  English  spoken  with  an 
English  accent,  but  which  he  should  have  called 
English  with  a South  British  accent.  Now,  accord- 
ing to  iny  observation,  no  man  whom  the  Dean  ot 
Canterbury  would  accept  as  a speaker  of  pure  Eng- 
lish says,  with  thick  utterance,  “ a gloss  of  ayull ; ” 
ana  yet  thousands  of  his  countrymen  do  speak 
thus.  But  with  social  refinement  and  mental  cul- 
cure  this  peculiarity  of  British  English  passes  grad- 
ually away,  until  among  the  best  bred  and  best 
educated  people  it  vanishes,  and  is  heard  no  more 
than  it,  or  a nasal  twang,  is  heard  under  similar 
circumstances  here. 

One  trait  of  English  spoken  with  a South  British 
accent  was  thus  whimsically  contrasted  with  the 
pure  English  accent  by  “ Punch,”  a few  years  ago. 
The  value  of  the  illustration  is  not  affected  by  the 
fact  that  the  pronunciation  in  question  was  that  of  a 
foreign  word.  The  true  pronunciation  of  the  name 
of  the  Italian  hero  of  the  day  was  mooted,  and 
“ Punch  ” decided  that  it  should  be, — . 

“ Garibaldi  when  duchesses  gave  him  a bal, 

Garibawldi  when  up  goes  the  shout  of  the  people." 

The  distinction  thus  so  daintily  and  humorously 
drawn  is  one  that,  with  opportunity,  no  quick  and 
sensitive  ear  could  fail  to  notice.  The  strong  ten- 
dency of  the  uncultivated  South  Briton  is  to  give 
to  the  broad  a,  not  the  sound  of  aJi  from  the  chest, 
which  is  heard  in  the  mouths  of  educated  persons  in 
Old  and  in  New  England,  but  a thick  azv,  formed 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  throat.  The  low  and 
lower-middle  class  London  man  calls  Garibaldi 
Gawribawldi,  or,  rather,  Gorribawldi,  But  if  the 


62 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Yankee,  in  a similar  condition  of  life,  deviates  from 
the  true  Gakndahldi,  he  will  make  the  vowel  shorter 
and  thinner,  pronouncing  it  as  in  '“palace” — Garvy^ 
bdldi.  The  thick,  throaty  pronunciation  of  the 
broad  is  a British  peculiarity ; but  while  it  is 
heard  in  the  mouths  of  so  many  persons  that  it 
divides  with  the  " exhasperated  ” h the  honor  of 
the  chief  distinction  of  English  spoken  with  a British 
accent,  it  is  as  little  prevalent  as  the  extinction  or 
superfluous  utterance  of  the  latter  letter  is  among 
the  best  speakers  in  England,  or  as  a nasal  twang, 
aoiU  for  " out,”  and  tew  for  " too  ” are  among  cul- 
tivated people  in  New  England.  Among  British 
Englishmen  few  but  those  who  to  a good  education 
unite  the  very  highest  social  culture  are  perfectly 
free  from  both  these  traits  of  English  as  spoken 
with  a British  accent. 

It  may  here  be  pertinently  remarked  that  the 
pronunciation  of  a in  such  words  as  glass^  last, 
father,  and  -pastor  is  a test  of  high  culture.  The 
tendency  among  uncultivated  persons  is  to  give  a 
either  the  thick,  throaty  sound  of  aw  which  I have 
endeavored  to  describe,  or,  oftenest,  to  give  it  the 
thin,  flat  sound  which  it  has  in  "an,”  "at,”  and 
"anatomy.”  Next  to  that  tone  of  voice  which,  it 
would  seem,  is  not  to  be  acquired  by  any  striving 
in  adult  years,  and  which  indicates  breeding  rather 
than  education,  the  full,  free,  unconscious  utterance 
of  the  broad  ah  sound  of  a is  the  surest  indication 
in  speech  of  social  culture  which  began  at  the 
cradle. 


STYLE. 


63 


CHAPTER  IV. 

STYLE. 

Accuracy  of  expression  is  the  most  essen- 
tial  element  of  a good  style  ; and  inaccurate 
writing  is  generally  the  expression  of  inaccurate 
thinking.  But  when  men  have  shown  that  their 
thought  is  important,  it  is  ungracious  and  super- 
fluous to  hunt  down  their  ifs  and  ands,  and  arraign 
their  pronouns  and  prepositions.  This  remark 
would  apply  to  some  of  the  criticisms  in  the  pre- 
vious chapter,  if  their  special  purpose  were  left 
out  of  consideration. 

Style,  according  to  my  observation,  cannot  be 
taught,  and  can  hardly  be  acquired.  Any  person 
of  moderate  ability  may,  by  study  and  practice, 
learn  to  use  a language  according  to  its  grammar. 
But  such  a use  of  language,  although  necessary  to 
a good  style,  has  no  more  direct  relation  to  it  than 
her  daily  dinner  has  to  the  blush  of  a blooming 
beauty.  Without  dinner,  no  bloom ; without  gram- 
mar, no  style.  The  same  viand  which  one  young 
woman,  digesting  it  healthily  and  sleeping  upon  it 
soundly,  is  able  to  present  to  us  again  in  but  a very 
unattractive  form,  Gloriana,  assimilating  it  not  more 
perfectly  in  slumbers  no  sounder,  transmutes  into 
charms  that  make  her  a delight  to  the  eyes  of  every 


64 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


beholder.  That  proceeding  is  Gloriana’s  physio- 
logical style.  It  is  a gift  to  her.  Such  a gift  is 
style  in  the  use  of  language.  It  is  mere  clearness 
of  outline,  beauty  of  form  and  expression,  and  has 
no  relation  whatever  to  the  soundness  or  the  value 
of  the  thought  which  it  embodies,  or  to  the  im- 
portance or  the  interest  of  the  fact  which  it  records. 
Learned  men,  strong  and  subtle  thinkers,  and 
scholars  of  wide  and  critical  acquaintance  with 
literature,  are  often  unable  to  acquire  even  an  ac- 
ceptably good,  not  to  say  an  admirable,  style  ; and, 
on  the  other  hand,  men  who  can  read  only  their 
own  language,  and  who  have  received  very  little 
instruction  even  in  that,  write  and  speak  in  a style 
that  wins  or  commands  attention,  and  in  itself  gives 
pleasure.  Of  these  men  John  Buryan  is,  perhaps, 
the  most  marked  example.  Better  English  there 
could  hardly  be,  or  a style  more  admirable  for  every 
excellence,  than  appears  throughout  the  writings 
of  that  tinker.  No  person  who  has  read  "The 
Pilgrim’s  Progress  ” can  have  forgotten  the  fight 
of  Christian  with  Apollyon,  which,  for  vividness  of 
^ description  and  drc^matic  interest,  puts  to  shame  all 
the  combats  between  knights  and  giants,  and  men 
and  dragons,  that  can  be  found  elsewhere  in  ro- 
mance or  poetry  ; but  there  are  probably  many  who 
do  not  remember,  and  not  a few  perhaps  who,  in 
the  very  enjoyment  of  it,  did  not  notice,  the  clear- 
ness, the  spirit,  the  strength,  and  the  simple  beauty 
of  the  style  in  which  that  passage  is  written.  For 
example,  take  the  sentence  which  tells  of  the  be- 
ginning of  the  fight : — 


STYLE. 


^5 


“ Then  Apollyon  straddled  quite  over  the  whole  breadth  of  the 
way,  and  said,  I am  void  of  fear  in  this  matter:  prepare  thyselt 
to  die;  for  I swear  by  my  infernal  Den  that  thou  shalt  go  no 
further : here  will  I spill  thy  soul.” 

A man  cannot  be  taught  to  write  like  that ; nor  ^ 
can  he  by  any  study  learn  the  mystery  of  such  a 
style. 

Style,  however,  although  it  cannot  be  taught,  is, 
to  a certain  extent,  the  result  of  mental  training.  A 
man  who  would  write  well  without  training,  would 
write,  not  more  clearly  or  with  more  strength,  but 
with  more  elegance,  if  he  were  educated.  But 
he  will  profit  little  in  this  respect  by  the  study  of 
rhetoric.  It  is  general  culture  — above  all,  it  is  the 
constant  submission  of  a teachable,  apprehensive 
mind  to  the  influence  of  minds  of  the  highest  class, 
in  daily  life  and  in  books,  that  brings  out  upon 
language  its  daintiest  bloom  and  its  richest  fruitage. 
So  in  the  making  of  a fine  singer  : after  the  voice 
has  been  developed,  and  the  rudiments  of  vocaliza- 
tion have  been  learned,  further  instruction  is  of  little 
avail.  But  the  frequent  hearing  of  the  best  music, 
given  by  the  best  performers,  the  living  in  an  at- 
mosphere of  art  and  literature,  will  develop  and 
perfect  a vocal  style  in  one  who  has  the  gift  of 
song ; and  for  any  other,  all  the  instruction  of  all 
the  musical  professors  that  ever  came  out  of  Italy 
could  do  no  more  than  teach  an  avoidance  of  posi- 
tive errors  in  musical  elocution.  But,  after  all,  the 
student’s  style  may  profit  little  by  his  acquiremenis. 

Unconsciousness  is  one  of  the  most  important 
conditions  of  a good  style  in  speaking  or  in  writing. 
There  are  persons  who  write  well  and  speak  ill; 

S 


66 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Others  who  write  ill  and  sj  eak  well ; and  a few  who 
are  equally  excellent  as  writers  and  speakers.  As 
both  writing  and  speaking  are  the  expression  of 
thought  through  language,  this  capacity  for  the  one, 
joined  to  an  incapacity  for  the  other,  is  naturally  the 
occasion  of  remark,  and  has,  I believe,  never  been 
accounted  for.  I think  that  it  will-  be  found  that 
consciousness,  which  generally  causes  more  or  less 
embarrassment  of  one  kind  or  another,  is  at  the 
bottom  of  this  apparent  incongruity.  The  man  who 
writes  in  a clear  and  fluent  style,  but  who,  when  he 
undertakes  to  speak,  more  than  to  say  yes  or  no, 
or  what  he  would  like  for  dinner,  hesitates,  and 
utters  confusion,  does  so  because  he  is  made  self- 
conscious  by  the  presence  of  othei^  when  lie  speaks, 
but  gives  himself  unconsciously  to  the  expression 
of  his  thought  when  he  looks  only  upon  the  paper 
on  which  he  is  writing.  He  who  speaks  with  ease 
and  grace,  but  who  writes  in  a crabbed,  involved 
style,  forgets  himself  when  he  looks  at  others,  and 
is  occupied  by  himself  when  he  is  alone.  His  con- 
sciousness, and  the  eflbrt  that  he  makes,  on  the  one 
.aand  to  throw  it  off,  and  on  the  other  to  meet  its 
demands  upon  him,  confuse  his  thoughts,  which 
throng,  and  jostle,  and  clash,  instead  of  moving 
steadily  onward  with  one  consent  together. 

Mere  unconsciousness  has  much  to  do  with  the 
charming  style  of  many  women’s  letters.  Women’s 
st3fle,  when  they  write  books,  is  generall}^  bad  with 
all  the  varieties  of  badness ; but  their  epistolary 
style  is  as  generally  excellent  in  all  the  ways  of  ex- 
cellence. A letter  written  by  a bright,  cultivated 
woman,  — and  she  need  not  be  a highlj^  educated, 


STYLE. 


67 


\ 


or  a much  instructed  woman,  but  merely  one  whose 
intercourse  is  with  cultivated  people,  — and  written 
meiely  to  tell  you  something  that  interests  her  and 
that  she  wishes  you  to  know,  with  much  care  about 
what  she  says,  and  no  care  as  to  how  she  says  it, 
will,  in  twelve  cases  out  of  the  baker’s  dozen,  be 
not  only  irreproachably  correct  in  expression,  but 
very  charming.  Some  literary  women,  though  few, 
are  able  to  carry  this  clear,  fluent,  idiomatic  English 
style  into  their  books.  Mrs.  Jameson,  Charlotte 
Bronte,  and  perhaps  George  Eliot  (Miss  Evans), 
are  prominent  instances  in  point.  Mrs.  Trollope’s 
book,  "The  Domestic  Manners  of  the  Americans,” 
which  made  her  name  known,  and  caused  it  to  be 
detested,  unjustl}/^-  in  this  country,*  is  written  in 
this  delightful  style- — easy-flowing  and  clear,  like 
a beautiful  stream,  reflecting  from  its  placid  surface 
whatever  it  passes  by,  adding  in  the  reflection  a 
charm  to  the  image  which  is  not  in  the  object,  and 
distorting  only  when  it  is  dimpled  by  gayety  or 
crisped  by  a flaw  of  satire  or  a ripple  of  humor. 
It  is  worth  reading  only  for  its  style.  It  may  be 
studied  to  advantage  and  emulated,  but  not  imitated  ; 
for  all  about  it  that  is  worth}^  of  emulation  is  in- 
imitable. Mr.  Anthony  Trollope’s  mastery  of  our 
language  is  inherited ; but  he  has  not  come  into 
if'ossession  of  quite  all  the  maternal  estate. 

For  at  least  a hundred  years  the  highest  reputa- 

* Unjustly,  because  all  of  Mrs.  Trollope’s  descriptions  were  true  to  life,  and  were 
evidently  taken  from  life.  She,  however,  described  only  that  which  struck  her  as 
peculiar ; and  her  acquaintance  with  the  country  w^ls  made  among  the  most  unculti* 
vated  people,  and  chiefly  in  the  extreme  South-west  and  West,  thirty-five  years  ago; 
which  was  much  like  going  into  “the  bush”  of  Australia  ten  years  ago.  With 
society  in  New  York,  Boston,  and  Philadelphia  Mrs.  Trollope  was  charmed ; but  of 
t she,  apparently  for  that  reason,  says  comparatively  little. 


68 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


tion  for  purity  of  style  in  the  writing  of  English 
prose  has  been  Addison’s.  Whether  or  not  he 
deserves,  or  ever  did  deserve,  the  eminence  upon 
which  he  has  been  placed,  he  certainly  is  one  of 
the  most  elegant  and  correct  writers  of  the  last  cen- 
tury. Johnson’s  formal  and  didactic  laudation,  with 
which  he  rounds  off  his  criticism  of  this  author, 
'Whoever  wishes  to  attain  an  English  style,  familiar 
but  not  coarse,  and  elegant  but  not  ostentatious, 
must  give  his  days  and  nights  to  the  volumes  of 
Addison,”  has  been  worth  a great  deal  to  the  book- 
sellers, and  has  stimulated  the  purchase  of  countless 
copies  of  "The  Spectator,”  and,  let  us  hope,  the 
perusal  of  not  a few.  But  in  the  face  of  so  weighty 
a judgment,  let  us  test  Addison,  not  merely  by 
comparison  with  other  writers,  but  by  the  well- 
established  rules  of  the  language,  and  by  those  laws 
of  thought  the  governing  power  of  which  is  admitted 
in  every  sound  and  educated  intellect,  and  to  which 
every  master  of  style  unconsciously  conforms.  See- 
ing thus  what  manner  of  man  he  is  who  has  been 
held  up  to  three  generations  as  the  bright  exemplar 
of  purity,  correctness,  and  grace  in  English  style, 
we  may  intelligently  determine  what  \ye  can  rea- 
sonably expect  of  the  great  mass  of  unpretending 
writers  in  our  hard-working  days. 

1 have  been  led  to  this  examination’  by  recently 
reading,  for  the  first  time,  the  "Essay  upon  the 
Pleasures  of  the  Imagination,”  which  runs  through 
ten  numbers  of  the  "Spectator,”"^  and  which  is  one 
of  Addison’s  most  elaborate  performances.  Bishop 
Hurd  says  of  it,  in  his  edition  of  this  author’s  writ* 


• Nos.  411  to  421. 


STYLE. 


69 


ings,  that  it  is  ”by  far  the  most  masterly  of  all  Mr. 
Addison’s  critical  works,”  and  that  "the  style  is 
finished  with  so  much  care  as  to  merit  the  best 
attention  of  the  reader.” 

The  first  number  of  the  Essay  appeared  on  Satur-  ^ 
day,  June  21,  1712,  with  a motto  from  Lucretius, 
which  intimates  that  Mr.  Addison  bjpke  his  own 
path  across  a trackless  country  to  drink  from  an 
untasted  spring.^  This  should  excuse  some  devia- 
tion from  the  line  of  our  now  well-beaten  road  of 
criticism ; but  there  are  other  errors  for  which  it  is 
no  apology.  The  first  sentence  tells  us  that  "our 
sight  is  the  most  perfect  and  delightful  of  all  our 
senses.”  A careless  use  of  language,  to  begin  with  ; 
for  sight  is  not  more  perfect  than  any  other  sense. 
Perfect  hearing  is  just  as  perfect  as  perfect  sight ; 
that  is,  it  is  simply  perfect.  But  passing  by  this  as 
a venial  error,  we  find  the  third  sentence  beginning 
thus : — 

“ The  sense  of  feeling  can  indeed  give  us  a notion  of  extension, 
shape,  and  all  other  ideas  that  enter  at  the  eye,  except  colours.” 

Now,  we  may  be  sure  that  Addison  did  not  mean 
to  say  what  he  does  say  — that  the  sense  of  feeling 
can  give  us  the  notion  of  ideas,  and  that  colors  are 
an  idea.  His  meaning,  we  may  be  equally  sure 
was  this  : The  sense  of  feeling  can  indeed  give  us 
a notion  of  extension  a72d  shape,  and  every  other 
idea  that  can  enter  at  the  eye,  except  that  of  color, 

A little  farther  on  we  find  this  explanation  of  the 
subject  of  his  Essay  : — 

• “Avia  Pieridum  peragere  loca,  nullius  ante 
Trita  solo:  juvat  integros  accedere  foutcis. 

Atque  haurire.” 


70 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


“ — so  that  by  the  pleasures  of  imagination  or  of  fancy  (which 
I shall  use  promiscuously),  I here  mean  such  as  arise  from  visi- 
ble objects.” 

Here  the  strange  confounding  of  imagination 
with  fancy  — faculties  which  had  been  clearly  dis- 
tinguished a hundred  years  before  the  time  of  Addi- 
son — first  attracts  attention.  But  not  insisting  upon 
that  mistake,  let  us  pass  on  to  learn  immediately  that 
he  means  to  use  the  pleasures  of  those  faculties 
promiscuously.  But  he  manifestly  intended  to  say 
that  he  would  use  the  words  imagination  and  fancy 
promiscuously.  The  confusion  in  his  sentence  is 
produced  by  his  first  mentioning  the  faculties,  and 
then  using  ''  zuhich'^  to  refer,  not  to  the  faculties, 
but  to  the  W'ords  which  are  their  names.  Again 
he  says,  — 

“ — but  we  have  the  power  of  retaining,  altering,  and  com- 
pounding those  images  which  we  have  once  received  into  all 
the  varieties  of  picture  and  vision  that  are  most  agreeable  to  the 
imagination.” 

Did  Addison  mean  that  we  have  the  power  of 
''retaining  images  into”  all  the  varieties  of  picture, 
and  so  forth?  Certainly  not ; although  that  is  what 
be  says.  Here  again  is  confusion  of  thought.  He 
groups  together  and  connects  by  a conjunction 
three  verbs,  — retain^  alter ^ and  compound,  — only 
two  of  which  can  be  united  to  the  same  preposition. 
This  fault  is  often  committed  by  writers  who  do  not 
think  clearly,  or  who  will  not  take  the  trouble  to 
perfect  and  balance  their  sentences  by  repeating  a 
word  or  two,  and  by  looking  after  the  fitness  of  their' 
particles.  What  Addison  meant  to  say  was,  — but 
we  have  the  power  of  retaining  those  images  which 


STYLE. 


71 

we  have  once  received^  and  of  altering  and  com- 
pounding them  into  all  the  varieties  of  picture, 
and  so  forth.  A few  lines  below  we  find  this 
sentence : — 

“ There  are  few  words  in  the  English  language  which  are  em- 
ployed in  a more  loose  and  uncircumscribed  sense  than  those  of 
the  fancy  and  imagination.” 

The  confusion  here  is  great  and  of  a very  vulgar 
kind.  It  is  produced  by  the  superfluous  words 
” those  of  the.”  Addison  meant  to  say^ — in  a more 
loose  and  uncircumscribed  sense,  not  than  the  words 
of  the  fancy  and  imagination,  but  than  fancy  and 
imagination.  In  the  same  paragraph  which  fur- 
nishes the  foregoing  example,  the  writer  says,  "'I 
divide  these  pleasures  in  two  kinds.”  It  is  English 
to  say,  I divide  these  pleasures  into  two  kinds.  The 
next  paragraph  opens  thus  : — 

“The  pleasures  of  the  imagination,  taken  in  their  full  extent, 
are  not  so  gross  as  those  of  sense,  nor  so  refined  as  those  of  the 
understanding.” 

Here  again  is  confusion  produced  by  a careless 
use  of  language  — careless  even  to  blundering. 
Addison  did  not  mean  to  speak  of  taking  pleasures 
either  of  the  imagination,  the  sense,  or  the  under- 
standing. If  he  had  written  — The  pleasures  of 
imagination,  regarded^  or  considered.,  in  their  full 
extent,  are  not  so  gross,  and  so  forth  — he  would 
have  uttered  what  the  whole  context  shows  to  have 
been  his  thought.  The  next  paragraph  makes  the 
following  assertions  in  regard  to  what  is  called  a 
man  "of  polite  imagination:” — 

“ He  meets  with  a secret  refreshment  in  a description,  and 
often  feels  a greater  satisfaction  in  the  prospect  of  fields  and 


72 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


meadows  than  another  does  in  the  possession.  It  gives  him, 
indeed,  a kind  of  property  in  everything  he  sees,  and  makes  the 
most  rude  and  uncultivated  parts  of  Nature  administer  to  his 
pleasures ; so  that  he  looks  upon  the  world,  as  it  were,  in 
another  light,  and  discovers  in  it  a multitude  of  charms  that 
conceal  themselves  from  the  generality  of  mankind.” 

The  first  of  these  sentences  is  imperfect.  We 
may  be  sure  that  the  writer  means  that  his  man  of 
polite  imagination  feels  a greater  satisfaction  in  the 
prospect  of  fields  and  meadows  than  another  does 
in  the  possession  of  them.  But  he  does  not  say  so. 
Nor  by  any  rule  or  usage  of  the  English  language 
are  the  preposition  and  pronoun  implied  or  under- 
stood ; for  the  sentence  might  just  as  well  end  — 
"than  another  does  in  the  possession  of  great 
richest  And  what  does  the  author  mean  by  say- 
ing that  his  politely  imaginative  man  looks  upon 
the  world  "in  another  light”?  Another  than  what? 
No  other  is  mentioned  or  implied.  The  writer  was 
referring  to  an  idea  which  he  had  in  mind,  but 
which  he  had  not  expressed ; and  we  can  only 
guess  that  he  meant  — another  light  than  that  in 
which  the  world  is  regarded  by  men  of  impolite 
imagination.  The  same  sort  of  confusion  appears 
in  the  first  sentence  of  the  very  next  paragraph  : — 

“ There  are,  indeed,  but  very  few  who  know  how  to  be  idle 
and  innocent,  or  have  a relish  of  pleasures  that  are  not  cr  iminal ; 
every  diversion  they  take  is  at  the  expense  of  some  one  virtue 
or  another.” 

Here,  in  the  first  place,  by  neglecting  to  repeat 
ivho^  Addison  says  that  there  are  very  few  men  who 
know  how  to  have  a relish  of  pleasures  that  are  not 
criminal ; whereas,  he  manifestly  meant  to  say  that 
Uiere  are  very  few  who  know  how  to  be  idle  and 


STYLE. 


73 


innocent,  or  who  have  a relish  of  pleasures  that  are 
not  criminal.  But  the  chief  blunder  of  the  sentence 
is  in  its  next  clause*  Who  are  " they  ” who  are  said 
to  take  every  diversion  at  the  expense  of  some  vir- 
tue ? According  to  the  writer’s  purpose,  ” they  ” has 
really  no  antecedent.  Its  antecedent,  as  the  sen- 
tence stands,  is,  "very  few  who  know  how  to  be  idle 
and  innocent;  ” but  these,  the  writer  plainly  means 
to  say,  are  they  who  do  not  take  their  diversion  at  the 
expense  of  some  virtue.  By  " they  ” Addison  meant 
the  many  from  whom  he  had  in  his  own  mind  sep- 
arated the  very  few  of  whom  only  he  spoke;  and 
he  thus  involved  himself  and  his  readers  in  a con- 
fusion which  is  irremediable  without  a recasting  of 
his  sentence.  All  these  marked  faults  of  style  — 
faults  which  are  not  examples  of  mere  inelegance, 
but  of  positively  bad  English  and  confused  thought 
— occur  within  three  duodecimo  pages.  It  might 
possibly  be  suggested  that  perhaps  Addison  wrote 
this  particular  number  of  "The  Spectator”  when 
the  usual  mellowness  of  his  style  had  been  spirited 
into  his  brain.*  But,  on  the  contrary,  similar  ex- 
amples of  slovenly  writing  may  be  found  all  through 
those  charming  " Spectators  ” to  which  Johnson 
refers  us  as  models  of  English  style.  Let  us  see. 
Here  is  the  third  sentence  in  "Spectator”  ^05,  a 
musical  criticism  apropos  of  Signor  Nicolini’s  sing- 
ing ; for  Addison,  as  well  as  Guizot,  wrote  art 
criticisms  for  the  daily  press. 

Bishop  Hurd  says  of  this  Essay,  “Some  inaccuracies  of  expression  have,  how- 
ever, escaped  the  elegant  writer ; and  these,  as  we  go  along,  shall  be  pointed  out” 
But  it  is  important  to  our  purpose  to  mention  that  not  one  of  the  inaccurate  and  con- 
^ised  passages  noticed  above  is  pointed  out  by  the  editor,  who  calls  attention  to  but 
pne  or  two  trifling  lapses  in  mere  elegance  of  expression. 


74 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES 


“ I could  heartily  wish  there  was  the  same  application  and 
endeavours  to  cultivate  and  improve  our  church-musick  as  have 
been  lately  bestowed  on  that  of  the  stage.” 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  construct  an  intelligible 
sentence,  without  burlesque,  that  would  be  more 
blundering  than  this  one  is.  To  begin:  "I  could 
heartily  wish”  is  nonsense.  A man  wishes,  or  he 
does  not  wish.  But  to  pass  by  this  feeble  and 
affected  phrase,  which  is  too  commonly  used,  the 
writer  wishes  that  there  was  the  same  application 
and  endeavors,”  etc.,  " as  have  been^^^  etc.  He  says 
neither  "was”  and  "has  been,”  nor  "were”  and 
"have  been.”  He  should  have  used  the  plural  form 
of  each  verb,  of  course  ; but  he  contrived  to  get  into 
his  sentence  all  the  errors  of  which  it  was  capable. 
Besides,  the  use  of  the  pronoun  thaV^  is  extremely 
awkward,  even  if,  indeed,  it  be  correct.  For, 
as  the  sentence  stands,  "that”  refers  to  "church 
music,”  and  the  writer  really  speaks  of  the  endeavors 
which  have  been  bestowed  "on  the  church  music  of 
the  stage.”  He  should  have  written  either  — church 
music  and  stage  music,  or  music  of  the  church  and 
that  of  the  stage  ; of  which  constructions  the  latter 
is  the  better.  The  sentence  may,  therefore,  be 
correctly  written  (it  cannot  be  made  graceful  or 
elegant)  thus  : I heartily  wish  that  there  were  the 
same  application  and  endeavors  to  cultivate  and  im- 
prove the  music  of  the  church  as  have  lately  been 
bestowed  on  that  of  the  stage. 

In  "Spectator”  No.  381  is  the  following  sen- 
tence : — 

“ The  tossing  of  a tempest  does  not  discompose  Ixim,  which 
he  is  sure  wil^^ring  him  to  a joyful  harbour.” 


STYLE. 


75 


The  use  of  which  in  this  sentence  is  like  that 
which  Mr.  Dickens  has  so  humorously  caricatured 
in  the  speech  of  Mrs.  Gamp ; indeed,  the  sentence 
is  almost  in  her  style,  or  that  of  her  invisible  gossip, 
Mrs.  Harris.  Addison  meant  to  say  — The  tossing  ^ 
of  a tempest  does  not  discompose  him  who  is  sure 
that  it  will  bring  him  to  a joyful  harbor. 

In  this  sentence,  from  "Spectator”  No.  21,  veyi~ 
ture  is  used  for  allow  : — 

“ — as  a man  would  be  well  enough  pleased  to  buy  silks  of 
one  whom  he  would  not  venture  to  feel  his  pulse.” 

And  what  shall  be  said  of  the  correctness  of  a 
writer  who  couples  the  separative  each  with  the 
plural  are^  as  Addison  does  in  the  following  passage 
from  "Spectator”  No.  21  ? 

“ When  I consider  how  each  of  these  professions  are  crowded 
with  multitudes  that  seek  their  livelihoods  in  them,”  etc. 

That  slovenly  writing  is  the  birth-form  of  careless 
thinking,  could  hardly  be  more  clearly  shown  than 
by  the  following  example,  from  "Spectator”  No. 

Ill  : — 


“ That  cherubim  which  now  appears  as  a god  to  a human 
Boul  knows  very  well  that  the  period  will  come  above  in  eternity, 
when  the  human  soul  shall  be  as  perfect  as  he  himself  now  is; 
nay,  when  she  shall  look  down  upon  that  degree  of  perfection  as 
much  as  she  now  falls  short  of  it.” 


If  Addison  did  not  know  that  cherubim  was  the 
plural  of  cherub^  and  that  he  should  have  used  the 
latter  word,  there  is  at  least  no  excuse  for  the  last 
clause  of  the  sentence,  which  is  chaotic.  He  v/ould 
nave  expressed  his  meaning  if  he  had  written  — 
Nay,  when  she  shall  look  down  upon  that  degree 


70 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


of  perfection  as  much  as  she  now  looks  tif  to  it ; or, 
better  — Nay,  when  she  shall  find  herself  as  mueh 
above  that  degree  of  perfection  as  she  now  falls 
short  of  it. 

With  two  more  examples  I must  finish  this  ar- 
ray. Speaking  of  Sir  Andrew  Freeport,  Addison 
says,  — 

“ — but  in  the  temper  of  mind  he  'zvas  tkcTi,  he  termed  them 
mercies,  favours  of  Providence,  and  blessings  upon  honest  in- 
dustry.” — Spectator^  No.  549. 

Explaining  a pasquinade',  he  writes,  — 

“ This  was  a reflection  upon  the  Pope’s  sister,  who,  before  the 
promotion  of  her  brother,  was  in  those  circumstances  that  Pas- 
quin  represetited  her”  — Spectator^  No.  23. 

It  would  be  superfluous  either  to  point  out  or  to 
correct  the  gross  errors  in  these  passages  — errors 
which  are  worthy  of  notice  as  examples  of  blunders 
peculiarly  British  in  character.  Errors  of  this  kind 
are  not  unfrequently  met  with  in  the  writing  or 
the  speech  of  the  middling  folk  among  our  British 
cousins  at  the  present  day  ; but  on  this  side  of  the 
water  they  seldom  occur,  if  ever.  Our  faults  are 
of  another  sort ; and  they  appear  in  the  casual 
writings  of  inferior  journalists,  who  produce  at  night 
what  must  be  printed  before  morning,  or  in  those 
of  authors  who  attain  not  even  to  local  reputa- 
tion. It  would  be  difficult  to  match  with  examples 
from  American  writers  of  even  moderate  distinc- 
tion such  sentences  as  the  following,  wliich  appear 
in  Brougham’s  appreciation  of  Talleyrand  : — 

‘‘Among  tlie  eminent  men  who  figured  in  the  eventful  history 
of  tlie  French  revolution  was  M.  Talleyrand;  and  whether  in 
fliat  scene,  or  in  any,  portion  of  modern  annals,  wc  shall  in 


STYLE.  77 

vain  look  for  one  who  represents  a more  interesting  subject  of 
history.” 

What  a muddle  of  thoughts  and  words  is  here ! 
Talleyrand  figured  in  the  French  revolution,  not  in 
the  history  of  that  event.  It  may  be  correctly  said 
of  him  that  \\^  figures  in  the  history  of  the  French 
revolution ; but  whether  this  is  what  Brougham 
meant  to  say,  the  latter  clause  of  the  sentence  makes 
it  impossible  to  discover.  For  there  scene  ” which 
refers  to  the  event  itself,  and  " annals, which  refers 
to  the  record  of  events,  are  confounded  ; and  we  are 
finally  told  that  a man  who  figured  in  an  eventful 
history  represents  an  interesting  subject  of  history  ! 
Within  a few  lines  of  this  sentence  we  have  the  one 
here  following  : — 

“ He  sided  with  the  revolution,  and  continued  to  act  with 
them,  joining  those  patriotic  members  of  the  clerical  body  who 
gave  up  their  revenues  to  the  demand  of  the  country,  and  sacri- 
ficed their  exclusive  privileges  to  the  rights  of  the  community.” 

With  whom  did  Talleyrand  continue  to  act? 
What  is  the  antecedent  of  "///d??;?”?  It  has  none. 
It  refers  to  what  is  not  expressed,  and,  except  in 
the  mind  of  the  writer,  not  understood  — the  revo- 
lutionar}'  clergy ; and  I have  quoted  the  whole  of 
the  sentence,  that  this  might  appear  from  its  second 
clause.  And  yet  Henry  Brougham  was  one  of  the 
men  who  achieved  the  splendid  early  reputation  of 
the  "Edinburgh  Review.” 

But  to  what  conclusion  are  we  tendino-?  If  not 

O 

only  Brougham’s  but  Addison’s  sentences  thus  break 
down  under  such  criticism  as  we  apply  to  the  ex- 
ercises of  a school-boy,  — Addison^  of  whose  st3'le 
we  are  told  by  Johnson,  in  Johnsonian  phrase,  tliat 


78 


WORDS  AND  TimiR  USES. 


it  is  " pure  without  scrupulosity  and  exact  without 
apparent  elaboration,” — to  whom  shall  we  look  as  a 
model  writer  of  prose,  who  can  be  our  standard  and 
authority  as  to  a pure  English  style?  Clearly  not 
to  the  principal  writer  of  "The  Spectator.”  For, 
although  he  may  have  been  without  either  scrupu- 
losity or  elaboration,  he  was  also  quite  as  plainly 
often  without  both  purity  and  exactness.  Such 
faults  of  style  as  those  which  are  above  pointed  out 
in  the  writings  of  Addison  are  not  to  be  found,  I 
believe,  in  Shakespeare’s  prose,  in  Bacon’s,  or  in 
Milton’s  ; but  they  do  appear  in  Diyden’s.  They 
will  be  looked  for  in  vain,  if  I may  trust  my  mem- 
ory, in  the  works  of  Goldsmith,  Johnson,  Hume, 
Gibbon,  Hallam,  Jeffrey,  Macaulay,  Irving,  Pres- 
cott, Ruskin,  Motley,  and  Hawthorne.  Addison, 
appearing  at  a time  when  English  literature  was  at 
a very  low  ebb,  made  an  impression  which  his 
writings  would  not  now  produce,  and  won  a repu- 
# tation  which  was  then  his  due,  but  which  has  long 
survived  his  comparative  excellence.  Charmed  by 
the  gentle  flow  of  his  thought,  — which,  neither  deep 
nor  strong,  neither  subtle  nor  struggling  with  the 
obstacles  of  argument,  might  well  flovy  easily,  — 
by  his  lambent  humor,  his  playful  fancy  (he  was 
very  slenderly  endowed  with  imagination),  and  the 
healthy  tone  of  his  mind,  the  writers  of  his  own 
generation  and  those  of  the  succeeding  half  century 
placed  him  upon  a pedestal,  in  his  right  to  which 
there  has  since  been  almost  unquestioning  acqui- 
escence. He  certainly  did  much  for  English  litera- 
ture, and  more  foi  English  morals  and  manners, 
which,  in  his  day,,  were  sadly  in  need  of  elevation 


STYLE. 


79, 


and  refinement.  But,  as  a writer  of  English,  he  is 
not  to  be  compared,  except  witii  great  peril  to  his 
reputation,  to  at  least  a score  of  men  who  have 
flourished  in  the  present  century,  and  some  of  whom 
are  now  living.  And  from  this  slight  examination 
of  the  writings  of  him  whom  the  world  has  for  so 
long  accepted  as  the  acknowledged  master  of  Eng- 
lish prose,  and  who  attained  his  eminence  more  by 
the  beauty  of  his  style  than  the  value  of  the  thought 
of  which  it  was  the  vehicle,  we  may  learn  the  true 
worth  and  place  of  such  criticisms  as  those  which 
have  preceded  these  remarks.  Their  value  is  in 
their  fitness  for  mental  discipline.  Their  place  is 
the  class-room. 


8o 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MISUSED  WORDS. 

The  right  use  of  words  is  not  a matter  to  be 
left  to  pedants  and  pedagogues.  It  belongs 
to  the  daily  life  of  every  man.  The  misuse  of 
words  confuses  ideas,  and  impairs  the  value  of  lan- 
guage as  a medium  of  communication.  Hence  loss 
of  time,  of  money,  and  sore  trial  of  patience.  It  is 
significant  that  we  call  a quarrel  a misunderstand- 
ing. How  many  lawsuits  have  ruined  both  plaintiff 
and  defendant,  how  many  business  connections  have 
been  severed,  how  many  friendships  broken,  be- 
cause two  men  gave  to  one  word  different  mean- 
ings ! The  power  of  language  to  convey  one ‘man’s 
thoughts  and  purposes  to  another,  is  in  direct  pro- 
portion to  a common  consent  as  to  the  meaning  of 
words.  The  moment  divergence  begins,  the  value 
of  language  is  impaired  ; and  it  is  impaired  just  in 
proportion  to  the  divergence,  or  to  the  uncertainty 
of  consent.  It  has  been  told,  as  evidence  of  the 
richness  of  certain  Eastern  languages,  that  tlicy 
have  one  thousand  words,  more  or  less,  for  the  sword, 
and  at  least  one  hundred  for  the  horse.  But  this, 
unless  the  people  who  use  these  languages  have  a 
thousand  kinds  of  swords  and  a hundred  kinds  of 
horses,  is  no  proof  of  wealth  in  that  which  makes 


MISUSED  WORDS.  8l 

the  real  worth  of  language.  A highly  civilized 
and  cultivated  'people  having  a language  adequate 
to  their  wants  will  be  rich  in  words,  because  they 
will  need  names  for  maii}^  thoughts,  and  many 
acts,  and  many  things.  Parsimony  in  this  respect 
is  a sign,  not  of  prudence,  but  of  poverty.  Juli- 
ana, passing  her  honeymoon  in  the  cottage  to 
which  her  ducal  bridegroom  leads  her,  flouts  his 
assurance  that  the  furniture  is  useful,  with  the  re- 
ply, conveying  a sneer  at  his  supposed  poverty, 
“ Exceeding  useful ; there’s  not  a piece  on’t  but 
serves  twenty  purposes.”  So,  when  we  find  in  a lan- 
guage one  word  serving  many  needs,  we  may  be 
sure  that  that  language  is  the  mental  furniture  of 
an  intellectually  rude  and  poverty-stricken  people. 
The  Feejee  islanders  ate  usually  pig,  but  they 
much  preferred  man,  both  for  his  flavor  and  his 
rarity  ; and  as  we  call  pig  prepared  for  table  pork, 
and  deer  in  a like  condition  venison,  so  those  poor 
people  called  their  loin  or  ham  " short  pig,”  and 
their  daintier  human  haunch  or  saddle  "long  pig.” 
Archbishop  Trench,  assuming  that  there  was  in  the 
latter  name  an  attempt  at  a humorous  concealment 
of  the  nature  of  the  viand  to  which  it  was  applied, 
finds  in  this  attempt  evidence  of  a consciousness  of 
the  revolting  character  of  cannibalism.  But  this 
seems  to  be  one  of  those  pieces  of  fanciful  and  over- 
subtle  moral  reflection  which,  coming  gracefully 
enough  from  a clergyman,  have  added  to  the  popu- 
larity of  Trench’s  books,  although  hardly  to  their 
real  value.  The  poor  Feejeeans  called  all  meat 
pig,  distinguishing  two  sorts  only  by  the  form  of  the 
animal  from  which  it  was  taken,  merely  because  of 
6 


82 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


the  rude  and  embryotic  condition  of  their  language, 
just  as  a little  child  calls  all  fur  and  velvet  " pussy- 
cat.” The  child  knows  as  well  as  its  mother  that 
her  muff  or  her  gown  has  not  four  legs,  claws, 
whiskers,  and  a tail ; and  it  has  no  purpose  of 
concealing  that  knowledge.  But  its  poverty  of 
language  enables  it  to  speak  of  the  muff  and  the 
velvet  gown  only  by  a name  which  expresses  (to 
the  child)  the  quality  which  the  muff,  the  gown, 
and  the  animal  have  in  common. 

A neglect  to  preserve  any  well-drawn  distinction 
in  words  between  thoughts  or  things  is,  just  so  far, 
a return  toward  barbarism  in  language.  In  the 
London  "Times’s”  report  of  the  revolting  scene  in 
front  of  the  gallows  on  which  Muller  (he  who  killed 
a fellow-passenger  in  a railway  carriage)  was 
hanged,  it  was  said  that  many  of  the  spectators, 
knowing  that  if  they  would  get  a good  place  'they 
must  wait  a long  while  to  see  the  show,  came  pro- 
vided with  "jars  of  beer.”  Now,  we  may  be  sure 
that  there  was  not  a jar  in  all  that  crowd.  A jar, 
which  is  a wide-mouthed  earthen  vessel  without  a 
handle,  would  be  a very  unsuitable  and  cumbrous 
vessel  on  such  an  occasion  and  in  such  a place ; 
and  besides,  beer  is  neither  kept  in  jars,  nor  drunk 
from  them.  The  "Times’s”  reporter,  who  is  said 
to  have  been,  on  this  occasion,  a man  of  letters  of 
some  reputation,  meant,  doubtless,  tankards,  pots, 
jugs,  or  pitchers.  Of  household  vessels  for  con- 
taining fluids  we  have  in  English  good  store  of 
names  nicely  distinctive  of  various  forms  and  uses ; 
and  there  seems  to  be  a chance  that  we  shall  lose 
some  of  them,  through  either  the  ignorance  or  the 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


S3 

indolence  of  writers  and  speakers  like  the  Times’s 
reporter.  It  is  not  long  since  every  lady  in  the 
land  had,  as  Gremio  said  that  Bianca  should  have, 
"basins  and  ewers  to  lave  her  dainty  hands,” 
although  not  of  gold,  as  that  glib-tongued  lover  . 
promised.  But  now  we  are  all,  with  few  excep- 
tions, content  to  use  a bowl  and  pitcher.  The 
things  are  the  same,  only  they  are  handsomer ; but 
we  have,  many  of  us  at  least,  given  up  the  distinc- 
tion between  bowl  and  basin,  and  common  pitcher 
and  ewer,  and  so  far  we  have  retrograded  in  civil- 
ity. Some  British  writers  and  speakers  say  "a 
basin  of  bread  and  milk.”  We  may  be  sure  they 
mean  a bowl,  for  a basin  is  an  uncomfortable  vessel 
to  eat  from.  But  if  they  mean  a bowl,  they  should 
say  a bowl ; for  although  we  have  dropped  -por- 
ringer except  in  poetry  (yet  there  are  men  living 
who,  in  their  childhood,  have  talked  of  porringers 
as  well  as  eaten  out  of  them),  we  may  as  well  try 
to  preserve  some  distinction  between  the  names  of 
our  domestic  utensils,  unless,  emulating  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  Feejeeans  in  their  short  pig  and  long 
pig,  we  call  them  all,  for  example,  cup,  and  say 
short  cup,  long  cup,  high  cup,  low  cup,  big  cup, 
little  cup,  deep  cup,  shallow  cup. 

Our  British  kinsmen  have,  during  the  last  fifty 
or  perhaps  hundred  years,  fallen  into  the  use  of  a 
peculiar  misnomer  in  this  respect.  They,  without 
exception,  I believe,  talk  of  the  water  jug  and  the 
milk -jug,  meaning  the  vessels  in  which  water  and 
milk  are  served  at  table.  Now,  those  vessels  are 
not  jugs,  but  pitchers.  A jug  is  a vessel  having  a 
small  mouth,  a swelling  belly,  and  a small  ear  or 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


84 

handle  near  the  mouth  ; and  this,  we  know,  is  never 
used  at  table  : a pitcher  is  a vessel  with  'a  wide 
mouth,  a protruding  lip,  and  a large  ear;  and 
this  we  know  that  they,  as  well  as  we,  do  use  at 
table  for  milk  and  for  water.  The  thing  has  had 
the  name  for  centuries.  Kence  the  old  saying  that 
Little  pitchers  (not  little  jugs)  have  great  ears 
Little  pitchers,  from,  the  physical  necessity  of  their 
shape  and  proportion,  must  have  great  ears  ; little 
jugs  may  have  ears  in  proportion  to  their  size. 
This  word,  by  the  by,  is  the  best  test,  if  indeed 
it  is  not  the  only  sure  test,  of  the  nationality 
of  a cultivated  man  of  English  blood,  — for  as  to 
the  uncultivated,  no  nice  test  is  needed.  Bee7t 
and  bijtj  sick  and  2//,  drive  and  ride^  a quarter 
to  twelve  and  a quarter  of  twelve  o’clock,  rciilzoay 
station  and  xdiXroad  dcfot^  even  pitch  and  inflec- 
tion of  voice,  may  fail  to  mark  the  distinction  ;,but 
if  a man  asks  for  the  milk-jug,  be  sure  that  he  is 
British  bred;  if  for  the  milk -pitcher,  be  equally 
sure  that  he  is  American.*  But  perhaps  some  peo- 
ple are  quite  indifferent  whether  or  no  it  is  said  that 
they  sip  their  coffee  out  ot  a jar,  drink  theii  beer 
from  a vase,  and  put  their  flowers  into  a jug.  Such 
readers  will  not  be  at  all  interested  in  the  following 
remarks  upon  the  misuse  of  certain  English  words. 
It  is  not  my  purpose  in  these  remarks  to  notice 

* As  to  the  use  of  ill  for  sick,  and  drive  for  ride,  see  pages  192,  196.  Since  this 
passage  was  written,  I have  had  a remarkable  confirmation  of  its  truth  in  the  language 
of  a lady  bom  and  bred  in  London,  who  spoke,  with  entire  unconsciousness  of  her  ex- 
cellence, the  most  beautiful  English  I ever  heard  even  among  her  countrywomen, 
however  high  their  breeding  or  their  culture — beautiful  in  idiom,  in  pronunciation,  in 
enunciation,  and  in  quality  and  inflection  of  voice.  She,  being  enUrely  ignorant  of  any 
question  upon  these  points,  and  thoughtless  about  her  speech,  said,  I have  been  sick 
with  a cold ; ” “I  have  enjoyed  the  ride  ” (in  a carriage) ; but  even  she  .asked  the 
servant  to  bring  “a  jug  of  water.” 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


85 

slang,  but  I shall  notice  cant.  Between  the  two, 
although  they  are  often  confounded,  there  is  a clear 
distinction. 

Slang  is  a vocabulary  of  genuine  words  or  un- 
meaning jargon,  used  always  with  an  arbitrary  and 
conventional  signification,  and  generally  with  hu- 
morous intent.  It  is  mostly  coarse,  low,  and  fool- 
ish, although  in  some  cases,  owing  to  circumstances 
of  the  time,  it  is  racy,  pungent,  and  pregnant  of 
meaning.  Cant  is  a phraseology  composed  of  gen- 
uine words  soberly  used  by  some  sect,  profession, 
or  sort  of  men,  in  one  legitimate  sense,  which  they 
adopt  to  the  exclusion  of  others  as  having  peculiar 
virtue,  and  which  thereby  becomes  peculiar  to  them- 
selves. .Cant  is  more  or  less  enduring,  its  use 
continuing,  with  no  variation  of  meaning,  through 
generations.  Slang  is  very  evanescent.  It  gen-/ 
erally  passes  out  of  use  and  out  of  mind  in  the  course 
of  a few  years,  and  often  in  a few  months. 

Abortive.  — A ridiculous  perversion  of  this  word 
is  creeping  into  use  through  the  newspapers.  For 
example,  I read  in  one,  of  large  circulation  and 
high  position,  that  "a  young  Spaniard  yesterday 
abortively  seized  two  pieces  of  alpaca.”  That  is 
abortive  which  is  untimely  in  its  birth,  which  has 
not  been  borne  its  full  time ; and,  by  figure  of 
speech,  anything  is  abortive  which  is  brought  out 
before  it  is  well  matured.  A plan  may  be  abortive, 
but  an  act  cannot.  It  would  be  a great  waste  of 
time  to  notice  such  ludicrous  writing  as  that  above 
quoted,  were  there  not  among  journalists,  and  gen- 
erally among  that  vast  multitude  who  think  it  fine 
io  use  a word  which  they  do  not  quite  understand, 


86 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


a tendency  to  the  use  of  ahoi'tion  to  mean  failuie  in 
all  its  kinds  and  all  its  stages. 

Adopt.  — A very  strange  perversion  of  this  word 
from  its  true  meaning  prevails  among  some  un- 
lettered folk,  generally  of  Irish  birth,  whose  misuse 
of  it  is  daily  seen  in  the  Personal  Advertisements 
in  the  New  York  "Herald.”  Thus,  "Wanted  to 
Adopt  — A beautiful  and  healthy  female  infant.” 
The  advertisers  mean  that  they  wish  to  have  the 
children  mentioned  in  their  advertisements  adopted. 
In  speaking  of  the  transaction,  their  phras’e  is  that 
the  child  is  " adopted  out,”  or,  that  such  and  such  a 
woman  " adopted  out  ” her  child.  The  perversion, 
it  may  be  said  inversion,  of  this  word,  is  worth  no- 
ticing because  upon  the  misuse  of  adopt,  \n  these 
advertisements,  travellers  and  foreign  writers  have 
founded  an  argument  against  the  reproductive  pow- 
er of  the  European  races  in  this  country.  From 
the  many  advertisements  "Wanted  to  Adopt,”  it 
has  been  inferred  that  the  advertisers  were  childless 
and  hopeless  of  children  ; how  unjustifiably  will 
appear  by  the  following  example,  which  appeared 
a few  da3^s  ago  : — 

“ A lady  having  two  boj^s  would  like  to  adopt  one.  Inquire 
for  two  days  at  228  Sullivan  Street.” 

This  lady,  quite  surely  an  Irish  emigrant  peasant 
woman,  wished  to  rid  herself  of  one  of  her  children. 

Affable. — A use  of  this  word,  wdiich  has  a 
veiy  ludicrous  effect  to  those  for  whom  it  has  the 
Bignification  given  to  it  by  the  best  English  usage, 
is  becoming  somewhat  common  in  newspaper  cor- 
respondence and  accounts  of  what  are  therein  called 
"receptions”  and  "ovations.”  It  means,  literally, 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


87 


ready  to  speak,  easily  approachable  in  conversation. 
But  by  the  usage  of  the  best  writers  and  speakers, 
and  by  common  consent,  it  has  been  limited  to  the 
expression  of  an  easy,  courteous,  and  considerate 
manner  on  the  part  of  persons  of  superior  position 
to  their  inferiors.  A king  may  be  affable,  as  Charles 
II.  was  to  his  attendants ; and  so  may  a nobleman 
be  to  a laborer.  Dr.  Johnson  at  the  height  of  his 
career  might  have  been  affable  to  a penny-a-liner, 
but  he  wasn’t.  General  Washington  was  not  affa- 
ble, but  Aaron  Burr  was.  Milton  calls  Raphael 
"the  affable  archangel,”  and  makes  Adam  say  to 
him,  as  he  is  about  departing  heavenward, — 

“ Gentle  to  me  and  affable  hath  been 
Thy  condescension,  and  shall  be  honored  ever 
With  grateful  memory.” 

But  in  "American”  newspapers  we  now  read  of 
affable  hotel-keepers  and  affable  steamboat  cap- 
tains ; and  we  are  told  that  Mrs.  Bullions,  at  her 
"elegant  and  recherche  reception,”  although  mov- 
ing in  a blaze  of  diamonds,  tempered  by  a cloud 
of  -point  de  Venise  lace,  was  "very  affable  to  her 
guests.”  Far  be  it  from  me  to  suppose  that  there 
may  be  a difference  between  a hotel-keeper  and  an 
archangel,  or  to  hint  that  the  true  sense  of  this  word 
may  be  preserved  in  this  usage  by  there  being  the 
same  distance  between  a steamboat  captain  and  a 
reporter  that  there  was  between  Raphael  and  Adam, 
That  suggestion  is  made  by  the  reporters  themselves. 
Perhaps  this  usage  is  one  of  the  sigos  of  the  level- 
ling power  of  democracy,  and  affability  is  about 
passing  away  among  the  vanished  graces. 

Aggravate  is  misused  by  many  persons  ig- 


88 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


norantly,  and,  in  consequence,  by  many  others 
thoughtlessly,  in  the  sense  of  provoke,  irritate, 
anger.  Thus : He  aggravates  me  by  his  impu- 
dence-meaning he  angers  me:  Her  martyr-like 
airs  were  very  aggravating  — the  right  word  being 
irritating.  The  following  example  is  from  an 
elaborate  article  in  the  critical  columns  of  a news- 
paper of  high  pretensions:  "This  lovely  girl,  so 
different  in  her  naive  ways  and  lady-like  carriage 
from  all  her  homely  surroundings,  puzzles  Felix, 
aggravates  him,  and  finally  leads  him  into  attempt- 
ing to  infuse  more  of  seriousness  into  her  nature.” 
The  writer  meant  that  Esther  provoked  or  irritated 
Felix.  Her  conduci  and  bearing  called  forth,  i.  c.^ 
pro-voked,  certain  action  on  his  part.  Aggravate 
means  merely  to  add  weight  to.  Injury  is  aggra- 
vated by  the  addition  of  insult.  Thus,  in  Howell’s 
Letters  (sec.  V.  12)  : "This  [opposition]  aggra- 
vates a grudge  the  French  king  hath  to  the  duke 
for  siding  with  the  Imperialists.”  An  insult  may 
be  aggravated  by  being  offered  to  a man  who  is 
courteous  and  kindly,  as  it  may  be  palliated  b}^ 
being  offered  to  a brute  and  a bully.  But  it  is  no 
more  proper  to  say  in  the  one  case  that  the  person 
is  aggravated,  than  in  the  other  to  say  that  he  is 
palliated. 

Alike  is  very  commonly  coupled  with  both  in  a 
manner  so  unjustifiable  and  so  inconsistent  with 
reason  as  to  make  the  resulting  phrase  as  gross 
a bull  as  was  ever  perpetrated.  For  example : 
"Those  two  pearls  are  both  alike.”  This  is  equal 
to  the  story  of  Sam  and  Jem’s  resembling  each  other 
very  much,  particularly  Sam.  When  we  say  of 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


89 


two  objects  that  they  are  alike,  we  say  that  they  are 
like  each  other  — that  is,  simply,  that  one  is  like  the 
other.  For  the  purpose  of  comparing  one  with  the 
other,  they  must  be  kept  in  mind  separate ; but  by 
using  hoth^  we  compare  them  as  two  together,  not 
separately  one  with  the  other.  Both  means  merely, 
and  only,  the  two  together.  Etymologically  it 
means  the  two  two,  and  it  corresponds  to  the  French 
phrase  tons  les  deux.  Of  two  objects  we  may  say 
that  both  are  good,  and  that  they  are  equally  good  ; 
but  not  that  both  are  equally  good,  which  we  do 
say  if  we  say  that  both  alike  are  good.  The  au- 
thority of  very  long  and  very  eminent  usage  can  be 
brought  ; e;  but  this  is  one 


of  those 


authority  is  of  no 


weight;  for  the  phrase  is  not  an  idiom,  and  it  is  at 
variance  with  reason.  The  error  is  more  and  other 
than  pleonastic  or  than  tautological.  It  is  quite  like 
that  which  I heard  from  a little  girl,  — a poor  street 
waif,  — who  told  a companion  that  she  "had  two 
weenie  little  puppy-dogs  at  home,  and  they  were 
both  brothers.” 

Allude  is  in  danger  of  losing  its  peculiar  signifi- 
cation, which  is  delicate  and  serviceable,  by  being 
used  as  a fine-sounding  synonyme  oi say  or  7nention. 
The  honorable  gentleman  from  the  State  of  Ko- 
keeko,  speaking  of  the  honorable  gentleman  from 
the  same  State,  denounces  him  as  a drunken  vaga- 
bond and  a traitor  to  his  party.  The  latter  rises 
and  says  that  his  colleague  has  alluded  to  him  in 
terms  just  fit  for  such  a scoundrelly  son  of  a poor- 
house  drab  to  use,  but  that  he  hurls  back  the  hon- 
orable gentleman’s  allusions,  and  so  forth,  and  so 


90 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


forth.  The  spectacle  is  a ^ad  one  to  gods  and  men, 
and  also  to  all  who  have  respect  for  the  English 
language.  For  whatever  may  have  been  the  case 
with  the  other  words,  allude  and  allusion  were  used 
in  their  Kokeekokian,  certainly  not  in  their  English, 
sense.  Allude  (from  ludo^  ludere^  to  play)  means 
to  indicate  jocosely,  to  hint  at  playfully,  and  so  to 
hint  in  a slight,  passing  manner.  Allusion  is 
the  by-play  of  language.  “The  Round  Table" 
having  said,  some  months  ago,  that  a certain  arti- 
cle in  “ The  Galaxy  " was  “ respectably  dull,"  the 
writer  thereof  amused  himself  by  turning  off  for 
the  next  number  the  following  epigram  : — 

“ Some  knight  of  King  Arthur’s,  Sir  Void  or  Sir  Null, 

Swears  a trifle  I wrote  is  respectably  dull. 

He  is  honest  for  once  through  his  weakness  of  wit, 

And  he  censures  a fault  that  he  does  not  commit ; 

For  he  shows  by  example  — proof  quite  unrejectable  — 

That  a man  may  be  dull  without  being  respectable.” 

Here  the  journal  in  question  is  not  mentioned,  but 
it  is  alluded  to  in  the  first  line  in  such  a manner  that 
any  person  acquainted  with  the  press  of  New  York 
could  not  doubt  as  to  the  one  intended. 

Allow. — A western  misuse  of  this  word  is  creep- 
ing eastward  ; and  sometimes,  owing  to  the  elevat- 
ing effect  of  suddenly  acquired  wealth,  is  heard  in 
fashionable  if  not  cultivated  circles.  It  is  used  to 
mean  say,  assert,  express  the  opinion.  E.g,  “ Tie 
ivas  mightily  took  with  her,  and  allowed  she  was 
the  handsomest  lady  in  Muzzouruh."  We  may 
allow,  or  admit,  that  which  we  have  disputed,  but 
of  which  we  nave  been  convinced ; or  we  may 
allow  certain  premises  as  the  basis  of  argument’ 
hut  we  assert,  not  allow,  our  own  opinions. 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


9^ 


Animal. — It  would  seem  that  man  is  about  to 
be  deprived  of  the  rank  to  which  he  is  assigned  by 
Hamlet  — that  of  being  the  paragon  of  animals. 
Man,  like  the  meanest  worm  that  crawls,  is  an  ani- 
mal. His  grade  in  the  scale  of  organic  life  makes  ' 
him  neither  the  more  nor  the  less  an  animal.  And 
yet  many  people  affect  to  call  only  brutes  animals. 
Is  this  because  they  are  ashamed  of  the  bond  which 
binds  them  to  ail  living  creatures?  Do  they  scorn 
their  poor  relations?  On  this  supposition  Mr.  Bergh 
might  account  for  that  lack  of  sympathy,  the  absence 
of  which  causes  the  cruelty  of  some  men  to  their 
dumb  fellow-beings,  were  it  not  that  in  past  days, 
when  no  one  had  thought  of  taking  man  out  of  the 
animal  kingdom,  brutes  were  more  hardly  treated 
than  they  are  now.  Mr.  Bergh’s  society  — like 
that  in  London,  of  which  it  is  a copy — is  called  The 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals. 

It  is  in  reality  a society  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty 
to  brutes;  for  the  animal  that  suffers  most  from 
cruelty  — man  — appears  not  to  be  under  the  shield 
of  its  protection.  . ‘ 

Antecedents. — The  use  of  this  word  as  in  the 
question.  What  do  you  know  of  that  man’s  ante- 
cedents? is  not  defensible,  except  upon  the  bare 
plea  of  mutual  agreement.  For  in  meaning  it  is 
awkward  perversion,  and  in  convenience  it  has  no 
advantage.  Antecedent^  an  adjective,  meaning  go- 
ing before,  might  logically  be  used  as  a substantive, 
to  mean  those  persons  or  things  which  have  pre- 
ceded any  person  or  thing  of  the  same  kind  in  a 
certain  position.  Thus  the  anteoedents  of  General 
Sherman  in  the  generalship  of  the  army  of  the 


92 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


United  States  are  General  Washington,  General 
Scott,  and  General  Grant.  There  are  also  the 
substantive  uses  of  the  word  in  grammar,  logic,  and 
mathematics.  But  to  call  the  course  of  a man’s  life 
until  the  present  moment  his  antecedents  is  nearly  as 
absurd  a misuse  of  language  as  can  be  compassed. 
And  it  is  a needless  absurdity.  For  if,  instead  of, 
What  do  you  know  of  his  antecedents?  it  is  asked, 
What  do  you  know  of  his  previous  life?  or,  better, 
What  do  you  know  of  his  past?  there^  is  sense  in- 
stead of  nonsense,  and  the  purpose  of  the  question 
is  fully  conveyed. 

Apt. — This  little  word,  the  proper  meaning  of 
which  it  is  almost  impossible  to  express  by  definition 
or  periphrasis,  is  in  danger  of  losing  its  fine  sense, 
and  of  being  degraded  into  a servant  of  general 
utility  for  the  range  of  thought  between  liable  and 
likely,  I have  before  me  a letter  published  by  a 
woman  of  some  note,  who,  asking  for  contributions 
to  her  means  of  nursing  sick  and  wounded  soldiers, 
says  that  anything  directed  to  her  at  a certain  place 
"will  be  apt  to  come.”  The  blunder  is  amusing.  I 
have  no  doubt  it  provoked  many  smiles ; and  yet 
how  delicate  is  the  line  which  divides  this  use  of  the 
word  from  the  correct  one  ! To  say  that  a package 
will  be  apt  to  come,  is  inadmissible ; but  to  say  that 
it  would  be  apt  to  miscarry,  would  provoke  no  re- 
mark. This  lady  meant  that  the  packages  would 
be  likely  to  come.  Her  error  was  of  the  same  sort 
as  that  of  the  member  from  the  rural  districts,  who, 
driving  into  a village,  called  out  to  a person  whom 
he  met,  " I say,  mister,  kin  yer  tell  me  where  Fd 
be  liable  to  buy  some  beans?”  A man  is  liable  to 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


93 


that  to  which  he  is  exposed,  or  obliged,  or  subject; 
but  he  is  not  liable  to  act.  He  is  liable  to  take  cold, 
to  pay  another  man’s  debts,  or  to  incur  his  wife’s 
displeasure.  He  is  liable  to  fall  in  love ; but,  un- 
less he  is  a very  weak  brother,  he  is  not  liable  to  be 
marry.  Aptness  and  liability  both  express  con- 
ditions— one  of  fitness  and  readiness,  the  other  of 
exposure  — inherent  in  the  person  or  thing  of  which 
they  are  predicated.  A man  may  be  liable  to  catch 
the  plague  or  to  fall  in  love,  and  yet  not  be  apt  to 
do  either.  For  manhood’s  sake  we  would  not  say 
of  any  man  that  he  is  liable  to  be  married ; yet, 
under  certain  circumstances,  most  men  are  apt  to 
be  married ; and  having  done  so,  a man  is  liable, 
and  may  be  apt,  to  have  a family  of  children. 
Shakespeare  makes  Julius  Caesar  say  of  Cassius, — 

“ I fear  him  not; 

Yet  if  my  name  were  liable  to  fear, 

I do  not  know  the  man  I should  avoid 

So  soon  as  that  spare  Cassius.” 

Caesar  might  have  said,  "if  I were  liable  to  fear” 
as  well  as  "if  my  name  were  liable.”  He  could 
have  said,  "if  I were  apt  to  fear,”  but  not,  "if  my 
name  were  apt  to  fear.” 

Artist  is  a much  abused  word,  and  one  class  of 
men  misuse  it  to  their  own  injury,  — the  painters,  — 
who  seem  to  think  that  artist  is  a more  dignified 
name  than  j)ainter.  But  artist  has  been  beaten 
out  so  thin  that  it  covers  almost  the  whole  field  of 
human  endeavor.  A woman  who  turns  herself 
upside  down  upon  the  stage  is  an  artist ; a cook  is 
iin  artist ; so  is  a barber ; and  Goldsmith  soberly 
calls  a cobbler  an  artist.  The  word  has  been  so 


P4  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

pulled  and  hauled  that  it  is  shapeless,  and  has  no 
peculiar  fitness  to  any  craft  or  profession  ; its  vague- 
ness deprives  it  of  any  special  meaning.  Its  only 
value  now  is  in  the  acknowledgment  of  the  ex- 
pression of  an  aesthetic  purpose,  or,  rather,  of  any 
excellence  beyond  that  which  is  merely  utilitarian. 
The  painters  say  that  they  assume  it  lest  they  should 
be  confounded  with  house-painters.  The  excuse  is 
as  weak  as  water.  If  they  are  liable  to  such  con- 
fusion, or  fear  it,  so  much  the  worse  for  them. 
Leonardo,  Raphael,  Michael  Angelo,  Correggio, 
Titian,  were  content  to  be  called  painters.  True, 
they  were  decorative  house-painters.  But  the  same 
name  satisfied  Rubens,  Vandyke,  Reynolds,  and 
Stuart,  who  did  not  paint  houses. 

Balance,  in  the  sense  of  rest,  remainder,  resi- 
due, remnant,  is  an  abomination.  Balance  is  met- 
aphorically the  difference  between  two  sides  of  an 
account  — the  amount  which  is  necessary  to  make 
one  equal  to  the  other.  It  is  not  the  rest,  the  re- 
mainder. And  yet  we  continually  hear  of  the 
balance  of  this  or  that  thing,  even  the  balance  of  a 
congregation  or  of  an  army  ! This  use  of  the  word 
has  been  called  an  Americanism.  But  it  is  not  so : 
witness  this  passage  from  "Once  a Week':”  — 

“Whoso  wishes  to  rob  the  night  to  the  best  advantage,  let 
him  sleep  for  two  or  three  hours,  tlien  get  up  and  work  for  two 
'hours,  and  then  sleep  out  the  balance  of  the  night.  Doing  this, 
he  will  not  feel  the  loss  of  the  sleep  he  has  surrendered.” 

Bountiful. — This  word  is  very  generally  mis- 
used both  in  speech  and  in  writing.  The  phrase, 
a bountiful  dinner,  a bountiful  breakfast,  or,  to  be 
hne,  a bountiful  repast,  is  continually  met  with  in 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


•95 


newspapers,  wherein  we  also  read  of  bountiful  re- 
ceipts at  the  box-offices  of  theatres,  and  even,  m a 
leading  article  of  a journal  of  the  first  class  now 
before  me,  of  ” bountifully  filled  hourly  trains.” 

This  use  of  the  word  altogether  perverts  and  v 
degrades  it  from  its  true  meaning,  which  is  too  val- 
uable to  be  lost  without  an  effort  for  its  preservation. 
Bountiful  applies  to  persons,  not  to  things,  and 
has  no  reference  to  quantity ; although  quantity  in 
benefits  received  is  often  the  consequence  of  bounti- 
fulness in  the  giver.  Lady  Bountiful  was  so  named 
because  of  the  benefits  she  conferred.  But  the 
things  that  she  gave  — the  food  and  clothing  — 
were  not  bountiful.  A breakfast  or  dinner  which 
is  paid  for  by  those  who  eat  it,  has  no  relations  of 
any  kind  to  bounty ; but  it  may  be  plentiful ; and 
if  it  is  given  in  alms  or  in  compliment,  it  will  be 
plentiful  because  the  giver  is  bountiful.  The  re- 
pasts, collations,  and  banquets,  above  referred  to, 
were  plentiful ; the  receipts  at  the  theatres  large ; 
and  the  trains  well  filled  or  crowded. 

Bring,  Fetch. — The  misuse  and  confusion  of 
these  two  words,  which  are  so  common,  so  rooted 
for  centuries  in  the  deep  soil  of  our  vernacular, 
would  indicate  a very  great  unsettling  of  the  foun- 
dations of  our  language,  were  it  not  that  the  per- 
version is  confined  almost  entirely  to  cities.  You 
will  hardly  find  an  English  or  a Yankee  farmer 
who  is  content  to  speak  his  mother  tongue  as  his 
mother  spoke  it,  who,  without  taking  thought  about 
it,  does  not  use  these  words  as  correctly  as  persons 
bred  in  the  most  cultivated  society.  But  people 
filled  with  the  consciousness  of  fine  apparel  are 


1)6 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


heard  saying  to  their' shop  boys,  ”Go  to  such  or 
such  H place,  and  bring  this  parcel  with  you ; and, 
say  ! you  may  fetch  that  other  one  along.”  Now, 
bring  expresses  motion  toward,  not  away.  A 
boy  is  properly  told  to  take  his  books  to  school, 
and  to  bring  them  home.  But  at  school  he  may 
correctly  say,  I did  not  bring  my  books.  Pctch 
expresses  a double  motion  — first  from  and  then 
toward  the  speaker.  Thus,  a gardener  may  say 
to  his  helper,  "Go  and  bring  me  yonder  rake;” 
but  he  might  better  say,  "Fetch  me  yonder  rake,” 
{.  ^.,  go  and  bring  it.  And  so  we  find  in  our 
English  Bible  (Acts  xxviii.  13),  "and  from  thence 
we  fetched  a compass  ; ” i.  e.,  we  went  out,  around, 
and  back,  making  a circuit.  The  distinction  be- 
twe:n  bring  and  fetch  is  very  sharply  drawn  in  the 
following  passage,  (i  Kings  xvii.  ii.)  "And  as 
she  was  going  to  fetch  it,  he  called  to  her  and  said. 
Bring  me ^ I pray  thee,  a morsel  of  bread.”  From 
this  usage  of  these  words  there  is  no  justifiable  vari- 
ation. The  slang  phrase  — "a  fetch” — is  hardly 
slang,  for  it  expresses  a venture,  i.  e.,  a metaphor- 
ical going  out  to  bring  something  in. 

Calculate. — A very  common  misuse  of  this 
word  should  be  corrected.  I do  not  mean  that  of 
which  the  gentleman  from  the  rural  districts  is 
guilt}^  when  he  cahlc’lates  he  kin  do  a pooty  good 
stroke  of  work  for  himself  when  he  gets  into  the 
Legislator,  but  that  which  prevails  much  more 
widely,  and  among  people  who  think  no  evil  of 
their  English,  and  who  would  say,  for  instance, 
that  the  nomination  of  Mr.  Greeley  to  the  Presi- 
dency was  calculated  to  deprive  the  Democrats 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


97 


of  tho  votes  of  the  Free  Traders.  It  was  calculated 
to  do  no  such  thing.  Who  needs  to  be  told  that  no 
such  object  entered  into  the  calculations  of  the  lead- 
ing Democrats?  But  this  use  of  the  word  has  even 
the  very  high  authority  of  Goldsmith  to  support  it : — ^ 

“ The  only  danger  that  attends  the  multiplicity  of  publica- 
tions is,  that  some  of  them  may  be  calculated  to  injure  rather 
than  benefit  society.” — Citizen  of  the  World,  L,etter  XXIV. 

Now,  calculate  means  to  compute,  to  reckon,  to 
work  out  by  figures,  and,  hence,  to  project  for  any 
certain  purpose,  the  essential  thought  expressed  by 
it,  in  any  case,  being  the  careful  adjustment  of  means 
to  an  end.  But  Goldsmith  did  not  mean  that  the  au- 
thors of  the  books  he  had  in  mind  intenued  to  injure 
society,  and  wrote  with  that  end  in  view.  He  did 
mean  that  these  books  might  contain  something  that 
would  do  society  an  injury.  Calculate^  used  in  this 
sense,  is  only  a big,  wrongful  pretender  to  the  place 
of  two  much  better  w'ords  — likely  and  apt.  Gold- 
smith meant  to  express  a fear  that  the  books  in 
question  were  likely  to  injure  society ; and  whether 
Mr.  Greeley’s  nomination  was  likely  to  cost  his 
party  the  Free  trade  vote,  is  matter  of  opinion  ; 
but  whether  it  was  calculated  to  do  so,  is  not. 

Calibre  is  used  with  a radical  perversion  of  its 
meaning  by  many  persons  who  should  know  better. 
As,  for  instance,  — 

“ She  has  several  other  little  poems  of  a much  higher  calibre 
than  that.”  — London  Spectator,  February  20,  1869. 

The  writer  of  this  sentence  might  as  well  have 
said,  a broader  altitude,  a bulkier  range,  or  a thinner 
circumference.  Calibre  is  the  measure  of  the  mass 
contained  or  containable  in  a cavity;  the 

1 


98 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


calibre  of  a bullet  or  a brain,  and  hence  of  a gun  or 
a skull.  Therefore  its  metaphorical  use  is  for  the 
expression  of  capacity,  and  its  proper  augmentatives 
are  of  expansion,  not  of  height  or  depth. 

Caption.  — The  affectation  of  fine,  big-sounding 
words  which  have  a flavor  of  classical  learning  has 
had  few  more  laughable  or  absurd  manifestations 
than  the  use  of  caption  (which  means  seizure,  act 
of  taking),  in  the  sense,  and  in  the  rightful  place, 
of  heading.  In  our  newspapers,  even  in  the  best 
of  them,  it  is  too  common.  This  monstrous  blunder 
was  first  made  by  some  person  who  knew  that 
tarn  and  capital  expressed  the  idea  of  headship, 
but  who  was  sufficiently  ignorant  to  suppose  that 
caption.,  from  its  similarity  in  sound  to  those  words, 
had  a kindred  meaning.  But  captain  and  capital 
are  from  the  Latin  caput a head  ; and  caption  is 
from  capio.)  I seize,  captuni^  seized.  Language 
rarely  suffers  at  the  hands  of  simple  ignorance ; by 
which  indeed  it  is  often  enriched  and  strengthened ; 
but  this  absurd  misuse  of  caption  is  an  example  of 
the  way  in  which  it  is  made  mere  empty  sound,  by 
the  pretentious  efforts  of  presuming  half-knowledge. 
Captivate  — a word  closely  connected  with  cap'- 
tion  — once,  indeed,  its  relative  verb  — is,  on  the 
other  hand,  an  interesting  example  of  the  perfectly 
legitimate  change,  or  limitation,  which  may  be 
made  by  common  consent  in  a word’s  meaning. 
Captivate  means  primarily  to  seize,  to  take  captive, 
and,  until  within  a few  years,  comparatively,  it  was 
used  in  that  sense.  But  within  the  last  two  genera- 
tions it  has  been  so  closely  limited  to  the  metaphori- 
cal expression  of  the  act  of  charming  by  beauty  of 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


99 


person  and  insnaring  by  wiles  and  winning  ways, 
that  it  seems  very  strange  to  read  in  one  of  Wash- 
ington’s letters  that  ”our  citizens  are  frequently 
captivated  by  Algerine  pirates.” 

Catch  is  very  generally  misused  for  reach,  gqt 
to,  overtake.  Many  persons  speak  of  catching  a 
car.  If  they  reach  the  car,  or  get  to  it,  it  being  at 
the  station,  or  if,  it  being  in  motion,  they  overtake 
it  or  catch  up  with  it,  they  may  catch  some  person 
who  is  in  it,  or  they  may  catch  scarlet  fever  from 
some  one  who  has  been  in  it.  But  they  will  not 
catch  the  car. 

Character,  Reputation.  — These  words  are 
not  synonymes ; but  they  are  too  generally  used  as 
such.  How  commonly  do  we  hear  it  said  that  such 
or  such  a man  ” bore  a veiy  bad  character  in  his 
vicinity,”  the  speaker  meaning  that  the  man  was  of 
bad  repute  in  his  neighborhood  ! We  know  very 
little  of  each  other’s  characters  ; but  reputations  are 
well  known  to  us,  except  our  own.  Character ^ 
meaning  first  a figure  or  letter  engraved,  means 
secondarily  those  traits  which  are  peculiar  to  any 
person  or  thing.  Reputation  is,  or  should  be,  the 
result  of  character.  Character  is  the  sum  of  in- 
dividual qualities : reputation,  what  is  generally 
thought  of  character,  so  far  as  it  is  known.  Charac- 
ter is  like  an  inward  and  spiritual  grace,  of  which 
reputation  is,  or  should  be,  the  outward  and  visible 
sign.  A man  may  have  a good  character  and  a 
bad  reputation,  or  a bad  character  and  a good  repu- 
tation ; although,  to  the  credit  of  human  nature, 
which,  with  all  its  weakness,  is  not  ignoble,  the 
latter  is  more  common  than  the  former.  Coleridge 


lOO 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


uses  character  incorrectly  when  be  says  (Friend 
1.  i6),  "Brissot,  the  leader  of  the  Gironde  party,  is 
entitled  to  the  character  of  a virtuous  man.”  Sheri- 
dan errs  in  like  manner  in  making  Sir  Peter  Teazle 
say,  as  he  leaves  Lady  Sneerwell’s  scandalous 
coterie,  ”I  leave  my  character  behind  me.”  His 
reputation  he  left,  but  his  character  was  always  in 
his  own  keeping. 

Chastity.  — Priestcraft  and  asceticism  have 
caused  a confusion  of  this  word  with  continence  — 
a confusion  which  has  lasted  for  centuries,  and  may 
yet  last  for  many  generations.  Even  such  a priest- 
hater  as  Froude  says  of  Queen  Catharine  that  she 
was  invited  to  take  the  vows,  and  enter  what  was 
called  the  religio  laxa  — a state,  he  adds,  " in  which 
she  might  live  unencumbered  by  obligation,  except 
the  easy  one  of  chastity.”  Does  Mr.  Froude  mean ^ 
that  Catharine  would  have  been  more  chaste  as  a 
secular  nun  than  she  was  as  Henry’s  wife?  that  a 
man  is  to  look  upon  his  mother  or  his  wife  as  less 
chaste  than  his  maiden  aunt?  He,  of  course,  meant 
no  such  absurdity ; he  merely  fell  in  with  a bad 
usage.  He  should  have  said,  except  the  easy  obli- 
gation of  continence.  Chastity  is  a virtue.  Con- 
tinence, under  some  circumstances,  is  a duty,  but 
is  never  a virtue,  it  being  without  any  moral  quality 
whatever. 

Citizen  is  used  by  some  writers  for  newspapers 
with  wliat  seems  like  an  affectation  of  the  French 
usage  of  citoyen  in  the  first  Republic.  For  instance  : 
"(jeneral  A is  a well-known  citizen,  and  responsi- 
ble for  these  grave  charges;”  or,  "Several  citizens 
carried  the  sufferer  to  a drug  store  on  the  nex1 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


lOI 


block.”  A citizen  is  a person  who  has  certain  po- 
litical rights,  and  the  word  is  properly  used  only  to 
imply  or  suggest  the  possession  of  these  rights.  The 
sufferer  was  cared  for  by  several  persons,  by-stand- 
ers,  or  passengers,  some  or  all  of  whom  might  have 
been  aliens.  The  writer  might  as  well  have  said 
that  the  sufferer  was  carried  off  by  several  church 
members  or  several  Free  Masons. 

Clarionet  and  Violincello  are  constantly  used 
for  clarinet  and  violoncello . There  was  a stringed 
instrument  which  has  long  been  disused,  and 
which  was  called  the  violone.  It  was  large,  and 
very  different  from  the  violino.  A small  instru- 
ment of  the  kind  was  made,  and  called  the  violon- 
cello (^eello  being  an  Italian  diminutive)  ; and  this, 
somewhat  modified,  is  the  modern  instrument  of 
that  name.  Violincello  would  be  the  name  of  a 
little  violin ; whereas  a violoncello  is  four  times  as 
large  as  a violin.  A similar  contraction  of  word 
and  thing  has  given  us  clarinet  (clarinettoi)  from 
clarino. 

Consider  is  perverted  from  its  true  meaning  by 
most  of  those  who  use  it.  Men  will  say  that  they 
do  not  consider  a certain  course  of  conduct  right  or 
politic  — that  they  do  not  consider  Mr.  So-and-So 
a gentleman  — and  even  that  they  do  not  consider 
gooseberry  tart  equal  to  strawberry  short-cake. 
Now,  consider e (the  infinitive  of  consido)  on  which 
consider  is  formed,  means  to  sit  down  deliberately, 
to  dwell  upon,  to  hold  a sitting,  to  sit  in  judgement ; 
and  hence  eonsider,  by  natural  process  came  to 
mean,  to  ponder,  to  contemplate.  And  there  seems 
to  have  been  more  than  a mere  happy  fancy  in  the 


102 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


notion,  now  abandoned,  that  consider  from  cous 
with,  and  sidera^  the  stars,  and  meant  to  take  coun- 
sel with  the  stars,  to  peer  into  the  future  by  watch- 
ing the  heavens.  A court  reserves  its  opinion 
that  it  may  consider  a question  which  it  sometimes 
has  for  weeks  under  consideration.  A business 
man  asks  until  to-morrow  to  consider  your  proposi- 
tion, and  meantime  he  ponders  it,  i.  ^. , weighs  it 
carefully,  ruminates  upon  it.  A man  whose  ability, 
character,  or  position  gives  weight  to  his  opinion,  is 
a man  of  consideration,  because  what  he  says  is 
worthy  to  be  considered;  and  whatever  is  large 
enough  or  strong  enough  to  deserve  serious  atten- 
tion is  considerable.  Ail  this  fine  and  useful  sense 
of  the  word  is  lost  by  making  it  a mere  synonyme 
of  thinks  su^'Pose^  or  regard. 

Consummate.  — Of  all  the  queer  uses  of  big 
words  which  are  creeping  into  vogue,  the  use  of 
this  word,  both  in  speech  and  in  the  newspapers,  to 
express  the  performance  of  the  marriage  ceremony, 
is  the  queerest.  For  instance,  I heard  a gentleman 
gravely  say  to  two  ladies,  "The  marriage  was  con- 
summated at  Paris  last  April.”  Now,  consumma- 
tion is  necessary  to  a complete  marriage  ; but  it  is 
not  usually  talked  about  openly  in^  general  society. 
The  gentleman  meant  that  the  ceremony  took  place 
at  Paris. 

Couple. — Although  the  misuse  of  this  word  is 
very  common,  and  of  long  standing,  the  perversion 
of  meaning  in  the  misuse  is  so  great  that  it  cannot 
be  justified,  even  by  time  and  custom.  It  is  used 
to  mean  simply  two;  as,  for  instance,  "A  couple 
of  ladies  fell  upon  the  ice  yesterday  afternoon.’ 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


103 


"Five  vsorkingmen,  stimulated  by  the  prospect  of  a 
couple  of  small  money  prizes,  offered  by  an  enter- 
prising local  firm,  delivered  speeches,”  etc.  — Pall 
Mall  Gazette^'  March  6,  1869.  Why  people  should 
use  thes2  three  syllables,  couple  of^  to  say  incorrectly  x 
that  which  one  syllable,  two^  expresses  correctly,  it 
is  hard  to  tell.  It  would  be  quite  as  correct  in  the 
above  examples  to  say,  a brace  of  ladies,  and  more 
surely  correct  to  say  a pair  of  prizes.  For  a couple 
is  not  only  two  individuals  who  are  in  a certain 
degree,  at  least,  equal  or  like,  i.  ^.,  a pair,  but  two 
that  are  bound  together  by  some  close  tie  or  inti- 
mate relationship  ; who,  in  brief,  are  coupled.  Two 
railway  cars  are  bound  together  by  the  coupling; 
a man  and  a woman  are  made  a couple  by  the  bond 
of  sexual  love,  which  even  the  legal  bond  of  mar- 
riage cannot  accomplish  ; for  a man  and  his  wife  may 
be  separated,  and  be  no  longer  a couple.  Twins, 
even,  are  not  a couple,  but  a pair.  In  couple ^ which 
is  merely  the  Latin  copula  Anglicized,  this  idea  of 
copulative  conjunction  is  inherent.  So  William 
Lilly,  in  his  "Short  Introduction  of  Grammar,” 
defines  jugum  as  " a yoke,  or  a yoke  of  oxen,  that 
is,  a couple.”  It  is  as  incorrect  and  as  absurd  to 
speak  of  a couple  of  ladies,  or  a couple  of  prizes, 
as  of  a couple  of  earthquakes  or  a couple  of 
comets. 

Convene  is  much  perverted  from  its  true  mean- 
ing  by  many  people  who  cannot  be  called  illiterate. 
Thus  : The  President  convened  Congress.  Con^ 
vene  (from  con  and  venio)  means  to  come  together, 
The  right  word  in  this  case  is  convoke^  which  (from 
con  and  voco)  means  to  call  together.  The  Presi- 


104 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


dent  convokes  Congress  in  special  session,  and  then 
Congress  convenes.  Convene  is  misused  in  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States  itself,  which  is  sin- 
gularly free  from  errors  in  the  use  of  language. 

Crime. — The  common  confusion  of  the  words 
crime ^ vice^  and  sin^  is  probably  due,  in  a great 
measure,  to  a failure  to  distinguish  the  things.  The 
distinction  was  long  ago  made,  although  hardly 
with  sufficient  exactness.  Crime  is  a violation  of 
the  law  of  a particular  country.  What  is  crime  in 
one  country  may  not  be  crime  in  another ; what  is 
crime  in  one  country  at  one  time  may  not  be  crime 
in  the  same  country  at  another  time.  Sin  is  the 
violation  of  a religious  law,  wdiich  may  be  common 
to  many  countries,  and  yet  be  acknowledged  by  only 
a part  of  the  inhabitants  of  any  one.  What  is  sin 
among  Jews  or  Mohammedans  is,  in  some  cases, 
not  sin  among  Christians,  and  vice  versa.  Vice 
has  been  defined  as  a violation  of  the  moral  law  ; 
but  to  make  this  definition  exact  in  terms  and 
universal  in  application,  a consent  as  to  the  require- 
ments of  the  moral  law  is  necessary.  Vice  is  a 
course  of  action  or  habit  of  life  wdiich  is  harmful  to 
tne  actor  or  w^rongful  to  others.  The  viciousness 
of  an  act  is  quite  irrespective  of  the  country,  or  the 
creed  of  the  person  wdio  commits  it,  or  of  the  people 
among  whom  it  is  committed.  That  which  is  crim- 
inal may  be  neither  sinful  nor  vicious  ; that  which  is 
sinful,  neither  criminal  nor  vicious;  and  that  which 
is  vicious,  neither  criminal  nor  sinful.  Thus,  smucr- 
gling  is  a crime,  but  neither  a sin  nor  a vice ; cov- 
etousness and  blasphemy  are  sins  and  vices,  but  not 
crimes ; gambling  is  a crime  and  a vice,  but  not  a 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


105 

sin ; idleness  is  vice,  but,  in  itself,  neither  sin  nor 
crime;  while  theft  is  criminal,  sinful,  and  vicious. 
The  macfnitude  of  the  wronor  in  some  acts  raises 
them  above  or  sinks  them  below  the  level  of  vice. 
Murder  is  not  a vice.  It  would  not  be  well  to  speak  ^ 
of  Herod’s  slaughter  of  the  innocents  as  a vicious 
or  even  a very  vicious  act.  The  idea  of  continuity^ 
or  of  possible  continuity,  of  a habit  of  action  is 
conveyed  in  the  word  vice.  Filial  disrespect  is  vi- 
cious ; but  the  same  cannot  be  said  of  parricide  ; for 
although  parricide  is  filial  disrespect  carried  to  the 
extreme,  it  cannot  become  a habit,  because  a man 
can  have  but  one  father  and  one  mother. 

Decimated.  — The  learned  style  of  that  eminent 
and  ambitious  writer,  the  War  Correspondent,  has 
brouorht  this  word  into  voccue  since  the  Rebellion, 
but  with  a sense  somewhat  difierent  from  that  in 
which  it  was  used  by  his  guide  and  model,  Caius 
Julius  Caesar.  After  the  battle  on  the  Rapidan,  or 
the  Chattanooga,  he  — I do  not  mean  the  greater  of 
the  two  eminent  persons,  and  probably  the  former 
will  admit  that  C.  J.  Cassar  was  the  more  dis- 
tinguished even  as  a writer  upon  military  afiairs  — 
used  to  say,  in  his  fine  Roman  st3de,  that  the  army 
was  ''awfully  decimated,”  as  in  one  of  the  many 
instances  before  me:  "The  troops,  although  fight- 
ing bravely,  were  terribly  decimated,  and  gave 
way.”  Old  Veni-vidi-vici  would  tell  him  that  he 
might  as  well  have  written  that  the  troops  were 
terribly  halved  or  frightfully  quartered.  When  a 
Roman  cohort  revolted,  and  the  revolt  was  put 
down,  a common  punishment  was  to  decimate  the 
cohort  — that  is,  select  every  tenth  man,  dccimus. 


I06  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

by  lot,  and  put  him  to  death.  If  a cohort  suffered 
in  battle  so  that  about  one  man  in  ten  was  killed,  it 
was  consequently  said  to  be  decimated.  But  to  use 
decimation  as  a general  phrase  for  great  slaughter  is 
simply  ridiculous.  The  exact  equivalent  of  this 
usage  would  be  to  say,  The  troops  were  terribly 
tithed. 

Defalcation  is  misused  on  all  sides  and  every 
day  in  the  sense  of  default  or  defaulting.  Defalca- 
tion is  the  noun  of  the  verb  defalcate^  which  means 
to  lop  off,  and  so  to  detract  from.  Congress  might 
defalcate  the  tariff,  and  the  defalcation  might  be 
large  or  small ; but  it  would  not  be  a default.  A 
default  might  be  made  by  any  officer  intrusted  with 
the  collections  of  the  customs  duties.  If  he  should 
not  pay  these  into  the  treasury,  he  would  default, 
i.  e.,  fail  in  his  duty,  and  be  a defaulter  ; but  he  would 
not  defalcate,  or  would  his  act  be  a defalcation. 

Dirt  means  filth,  and  primarily  filth  of  the  most 
offensive  kind.  A thing  that  is  dirty  is  foul.  The 
word  has  properly  no  other  meaning.  And  yet 
some  women,  intelligent  and  well  educated,  say 
that  they  like  to  ride  on  *'  a dirt  road.”  They  mean 
a ground  road,  an  earth  road,  a gravel  road,  or, 
in  general  terms,  an  unpaved  road.  Dirt  is  used 
by  some  persons  as  if  it  meant  earth,  loam,  gravel, 
or  sand;  and  we  sometimes  hear  "clean  dirt” 
spoken  of.  There  is  no  such  thing. 

Divine.  — The  use  of  this  adjective  as  a noun, 
meaning  a clergyman,  a minister  of  the  gospel,  is 
supported  by  long  usage  and  high  authority.  In 
" Richard  III.”  Buckingham  points  out  to  the  Mayor 
of  London  the  hypocritical  Gloster  " meditating  with 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


107 


two  deep  divines.”  Chaucer  calls  the  piiest  Cal- 
chas  a divine.  Yet  I cannot  but  regard  this  use 
of  the  word  as  at  variance  with  reason,  as  fantastic 
and  extravagant.  Think  it  over  a little,  and  say  it 
over  a few  times  — a divine,  a divine  — meaning  a " 
sort  of  man  ! It  might  be  more  blasphemous  to 
leave  out  the  article,  and  call  the  man  divine ; but 
would  it  be  quite  as  absurd?  This  use  of  this  ad- 
jective as  a noun  has  a parallel  in  the  calling 
philosopher  ” a philosophic,”  which  is  done  in  a 
newspaper  article  before  me ; in  the  more  common 
designation  of  a child  as  "juvenile,”  and  even  of 
books  for  children  as  “juveniles;”  in  the  phrase 
" an  obituary,”  meaning  an  obituary  article  ; and  in 
the  name  "monthly,”  which  is  sometimes  given  to  a 
literary  magazine  ; all  of  which  are  equally  at  vari- 
ance with  reason  and  with  good  taste.  In  either  case 
the  thing  is  deprived  of  its  substantive  name,  and 
designated  by  an  unessential,  accidental  quality. 

Dock  is  by  many  persons  used  to  mean  a wharf  or 
pier  ; thus  : He  fell  off  the  dock,  and  was  drowned. 
A dock  is  an  open  place  without  a roof,  into  which 
anything  is  received,  and  where  it  is  enclosed  for 
safety.  A prisoner  stands,  or  used  to  stand,  in  the 
dock  at  his  trial.  A ship  is  taken  into  a dock  for 
repairs.  The  Atlantic  Dock  is  properly  named. 
The  shipping  around  a city  lies  at  wharfs  and  piers, 
but  goes  into  docks.  A man  might  fall  into  a dock  ; 
but  to  say  that  he  fell  off  a dock  is  no  better  than  to 
say  that  he  fell  off  a hole. 

Dress  has  the  singular  fortune  of  being  misused 
by  one  sex  only.  By  town-bred  women,  both  in 
Great  Britain  and  the  United  States,  and  by  that 


I08  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

very  large  and  wide-spread  rural  class  who  affect 
town-bred  airs,  dress  is  used  for  gown;  and  thus 
woman,  in  a very  unhousewifely  way,  takes  from 
one  good  servant  half  his  rights,  and  throws  another 
out  of  place  entirely,  thereby  leaving  herself  short- 
handed.  The  radical  idea  expressed  in  the  word 
dress  is,  right;  and  dress,  the  verb,  means,  simply, 
to  set  right,  to  put  in  order.  A captain  of  infantry 
orders  his  company  to  dress  to  the  right  — that  is, 
to  bring  themselves  into  order,  into  line,  by  looking 
to  the  right.  The  kitchen  dresser  is  so  called  be- 
cause upon  it  dishes  are  put  in  order.  As  to  the 
body,  dress  is  that  which  puts  it  in  order,  in  a con- 
dition comfortable  and  suitable  to  the  circumstances 
in  which  it  is  placed.  Dress  is  a general  term,  in- 
cluding the  entire  apparel,  the  under  garments  as 
well  as  the  outer.  No  man  thinks  of  calling  his 
coat  or  his  waistcoat  his  dress,  more  than  of  so  call- 
ing his  shirt  or  his  stockings.  But  women  do  so 
call  the  gown  ; and  thus  they  use  a word  which  is 
a vague,  general  term,  and  is  applicable  to  all  ap- 
parel, and  belongs  to  men  as  much  as  to  women, 
instead  of  one  which  means  exactly  that  which  they 
wish  to  express  — a long  outer  garment^  extending 
from  the  shoulder  below  the  knee.  Frock,  some- 
times used  for  gown,  is  properly  of  more  limited 
application,  although  it  belongs  both  to  masculine 
and  feminine  attire.  The  origin  of  the  perversion 
is  probably  untraceable,  except  by  the  aid  of  some 
woman  of  close  observation  and  reflection,  who 
is  old  enough  to  have  been  brought  up  to  sa}' 
gown.  Such  a person  might  be  able  to  tell  us 
how  and  why,  in  a little  more  than  a generation 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


109 

this  word  has  come  to  be  thus  perverted  by  her  sex 
only. 

Editorial.  — An  unpleasant  Americanism  for 
leader  or  leading  article^  which  name  is  given  to 
the  articles  in  newspapers  upon  the  leading  topics 
of  the  day.  These  articles  are  not  generally  written 
by  the  editor  of  the  paper,  although  he  is  responsi- 
ble for  them  ; but  so  is  he  for  the  other  articles,  and 
for  the  correspondence.  And  even  were  the  case 
otherwise,  leader  or  leadmg  artiele  would,  none  the 
less,  be  a good  descriptive  name  for  them,  and 
editorial  would  be  poor,  both  for  its  meagre  signifi- 
cance, and  for  its  conversion  of  an  adjective,  not 
signifying  a quality,  as  good  or  ///,  into  a noun. 

Esquirp:.  — An  attempt  to  deprive  any  citizen  of 
this  democratic  republic  of  his  right  to  be  called 
an  esquire  by  his  friends  and  all  his  correspondents, 
would  be  an  outrage  upon  our  free  institutions,  and 
perhaps  treason  to  the  natural  rights  of  man,  what- 
ever they  may  be.  Upon  this  subject  I confess 
myself  fit  only  to  be  a learner  ; but  I have  yet  to  dis- 
cover what  a man  means  when  he  addresses  a letter 
to  John  Dash,  Esq.  (who  is  in  no  manner  distin- 
guished or  distinguishable  from  other  Dashes),  ex- 
cept that  Mr.  Dash  shall  think  he  means  to  be  polite. 

Evacuate.  — This  word  is  often  subjected  to  the 
same  kind  of  ill  treatment  from  which  leave  suffers. 
Thus : General  Pemberton  expects  to  evacuate  to- 
morrow about  nine  A.  M.  ; or.  The  enemy  evacu- 
ated last  night.  Evaeuate  does  not  mean  to  go 
away,  but  to  make  empty ; and  when  the  word  is 
used  in  regard  to  military  movements,  evacuation 
is  a mere  consequence,  result,  or,  at  most,  con- 


no 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


comitant  of  the  going  away  of  the  garrison.  For 
obvious  reasons  the  mention  of  the  place  departed 
from  is  in  this  case  particularly  necessary. 

Every.  — A gross  misuse  of  this  word  has  been 
brought  into  vogue  within  the  last  few  years  on  both 
sides  of  the  water  — the  first  offenders  having  been 
people  who  wished  to  be  elegant,  but  who  did  not 
know  enough  to  be  correct ; the  others  being  their 
thoughtless  followers.  Thus,  General  Napier,  writ- 
ing to  Disraeli  from  Abyssinia,  said,  "The  men 
deserve  every  praise;-”  "The  Tribune  ” says  that 
" Congress  has  exercised  every  charity  in  its  treat- 
ment of  the  President ; ” a manager  is  reported  as 
having  said  that  as  a certain  actor  has  recovered 
his  health,  he,  the  manager,  "has  every  confidence 
in  announcing  him  ” ; and  we  see  grateful  people 
acknowledging,  in  testimonials,  that  in  their  trouble 
such  or  such  a captain,  or  landlord,  "rendered  them 
every  assistance.”  This  is  absurdly  wrong.  Every 
is  separative,  and  can  be  applied  only  to  a whole 
composed  of  many  individuals.  Composed  origin- 
ally of  the  Anglo-Saxon  cefer^  ever,  and  celc^  each, 
its  course  of  descent  has  been  cvcrcelc^  cvcrilk^ 
cvcrich^  every.  It  means  each  of  all;  not  all  in 
mass.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be  applied  to  that  which 
is  in  its  very  nature  inseparable.  The  manager 
might  as  well  have  said  that  he  had  multitudinous 
confidence,  as  that  he  had  every  confidence.  He 
meant  perfect  or  entire  confidence  ; and  the  grateful 
people,  that  the  captain  rendered  them  all  possible 
assistance.  Such  a sentence,  too,  as  the  following, 
from  the  work  of  an  admired  British  novelist,  is 
absurd  : "Every  human  being  has  this  in  common.” 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


Ill 


All  human  beings  might  have  something  in  com- 
mon ; but  what  every  man  has,  he  has  individually 
for  himself. 

Executed.  — A vicious  use  of  this  word  has  pre- 
vailed so  long,  become  so  common,  that,  although^ 
it  produces  sheer  nonsense,  there  is  little  hope  of 
its  reformation,  except  in  case  of  that  rare  occur- 
rence in  the  history  of  language,  a vigorous  and 
persistent  effort  on  the  part  of  the  best  speakers  and 
writers  and  professional  teachers  toward  the  ac- 
complishment of  a special  purpose.  The  perversion 
referred  to  is  the  use  of  executed  to  mean  hanged, 
beheaded,  put  to  death.  Thus  a well-known  his- 
torian says  of  Anne  Boleyn  that  "she  was  tried, 
found  guilty,  and  executed ; ” and  in  the  news- 
papers we  almost  always  read  of  the  "execution” 
of  a murderer.  The  writers  declare  the  perform- 
ance of  an  impossibility.  A law  may  be  executed ; 
a sentence  may  be  executed  ; and  the  execution  of 
the  law  or  of  a sentence  sometimes,  although  not 
once  in  a thousand  times,  results  in  the  death  of  the 
person  upon  whom  it  is  executed.  The  coroner’s 
jury,  which  sits  in  the  prison-yard  upon  the  body  of 
a felon  who  has  been  hanged,  brings  in  its  formal 
verdict,  " Execution  of  the  law.”  To  execute  (from 
sequor)  is  to  follow  to  the  end,  and  so  to  carry  out, 
and  to  perform  ; and  how  is  it  possible  that  a human 
being  can  be  executed?  A plea  of  metaphorical  or 
secondary  use  will  not  save  the  word  in  this  sense ; 
for  the  law  or  a sentence  is  as  much  executed  when 
a condemned  felon  is  imprisoned  as  when  he  is  put 
to  death.  But  who  would  think  of  saying  that  a 
man  was  executed  because  he  was  shut  up  in  the 


II2 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


State  Prison?  And  even  were  it  not  so,  how  much 
simpler  and  more  significant  a use  of  language  to 
say  that  a felon,  or  a victim  of  tyranny,  had  been 
hanged,  beheaded,  shot,  or  generally,  put  to  death, 
than  to  say  he  was  executed  ! of  which  use  of  this 
word  there  is  no  justification,  its  only  palliation  be- 
ing that  afforded  by  custom  and  bad  example. 

Exemplary.  — Archbishop  Trench  has  pointed 
out  that  a too  common  use  of  this  word  makes  it 
” little  more  than  a loose  synonyme  for  excellent.^'' 
Its  proper  meaning  is,  that  which  serves  for  an  ex- 
ample. Cervantes’  Novelas  cxem-plares  were  so 
called,  because  each  of  them  furnished  an  ex- 
ample. The  misuse  of  exemplary  confines  it  to 
examples  that  should  be  followed.  But  some  ex- 
amples are  not  to  be  followed.  A man  is  hanged 
for  an  example.  Othello  says,  "Cassio,  111  make 
an  example  of  thee.”  The  language  would  gain  a 
word  by  the  restriction  of  exemplary  to  its  proper 
meaning.  Example  itself  is  too  often  loosely  used 
iox  problem,  A problem  often  is  an  example  of  the 
operation  of  a rule,  but  not  always  ; and  in  any  case 
its  exemplary  is  not  its  essential  character. 

Expect  is  very  widely  misued  on  both  sides  of 
the  water  in  the  sense  of  suppose,  think,  guess. 
E,  g,i  "I  expect  you  had  a pretty  hard  time  of  it 
yesterday.”  Expect  refers  only  to  that  which  is 
to  come,  and  which,  therefore,  is  looked  for  {ex,, 
out,  and  spcctare,  to  look).  We  cannot  expect 
backward. 

Experience.  — Perhaps  an  objection  to  the  use 
of  this  word  as  a verb  has  no  better  ground  than 
that  of  taste  or  individual  preference,  which  should 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


be  excluded  from  discussions  like  the  present ; yet 
I am  inclined  to  make  that  objection  very  strong- 
ly. We  are  told,  for  instance,  in  a London  news- 
paper of  repute,  that  an  Armenian  archbishop 
who  penetrated  into  Abyssinia  at  the  request  of  the 
British  authorities,  "'fell  into  the  hands  of  some  bar- 
barous tribes  of  that  district,  from  whom  he  is  ex- 
periencing very  rough  usage.”  He  was  receiving 
or  suffering  rough  usage  ; and  although  that  was 
part  of  his  experience,  he  did  not  experience  it. 
Experience  is  the  passing  through  a more  or  less 
continuous  course  of  events  or  trials.  A man’s  ex- 
perience is  the  sum  of  his  life  ; his  experience  in  any 
profession,  business,  or  condition  of  life,  is  the  aggre- 
gate of  the  observation  he  has  had  the  opportunity  of 
making  in  that  profession,  business,  or  condition. 
Experience  should  be  a means  of  obtaining  knowl- 
edge and  understanding,  but  it  is  not  so  always. 
Some  men  learn  much-  by  experience ; most  men, 
very  little  ; many,  nothing.  Experience  is  akin  to 
experiment^  both  being  derived  from  the  same  Latin 
word,  experior^  experimentnm^  the  idea  expressed 
by  which  is  trial.  But  experiment  is  voluntary  trial, 
experience  involuntary.  In  experiment  the  trier  is 
an  agent ; in  experience,  an  observer,  and  often  a 
sufferer.  He  not  only  tries,  but  is  tried  himself. 
Natural  science  advances  by  experiments  which  are 
undertaken  by  scientific  men,  and  an  experiment  is 
a positive  fact,  of  which  all  men  may  avail  them- 
selves according  to  their  knowledge  and  ability  ; 
but  experience  is  of  little  value  except  to  him  who 
has  passed  through  it.  From  the  noun  experience  is 
formed  the  participial  adjective  experienced  (which 
8 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


ri4 

is  not  the  perfect  particij  le  of  a verb  experience) , 
as  moneyed  from  money ^ landed  from  land^  talented 
from  talent,  easeniated  from  casemate^  battleniented 
from  haiUenient,  Battle7nented  is  not  a part  of  a 
verb  — / battlement^  thou  battlementest^  etc.;  or 
talented  from  a verb  — I talent^  thou  talentest,  etc. 
So  an  experienced  man  is  a man  of  experience,  not 
one  who  has  been  experienced,  i.  ^.,  according  to 
the  dictionaries,  has  been  tried,  proved,  observed, 
but  one  who  has  tried,  has  proved,  has  observed. 
Of  the  use  of  experience  as  an  active  transitive  verb, 
I have  been  able  to  find,  by  diligent  search,  only 
one  example  of  any  authority — the  following,  quoted 
by  Richardson  from  "The  Guardian”  — "the  max- 
im of  common  sense  — that  men  ought  to  form  their 
judgments  of  things  unexperienced  from  what  they 
have  experienced.”  The  examples  easiest  to  find 
are  such  as  the  following,  furnished  by  an  incensed 
farmer:  "Wal,  I’ll  be  durned  ef  ever  I exper’enced 
sech  a cussed  cross-gr^iined  critter  as  that  in  all  my 
life;”  the  cross-grained  creature  which  the  speaker 
experienced  being  a cow  that  kicked  over  the  milk- 
pail.  That  this  is  not  an  extreme  case,  take  the 
following  examples  in  evidence  — the  first  from  the 
Gondon  " Spectator,”  the  second  from  " The  Mark 
i.^ane  Express,”  two  high-class  British  newspapers: 

The  attempt  to  adapt  ourselves  by  temporary  ex- 
pedients to  a climate  which  we  experience  [to  which 
we  are  exposed]  about  once  in  twenty  or  thirty 
years  ; ” "The  hay  crop  is  one  of  the  most  deficient 
experienced  [that  we  have  had]  in  many  3^ears.’* 
Now,  if  we  may  experience  a hot  da}^  or  experience 
a hay  crop,  can  we  refuse  to  experience  a cow, 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


II5 

without  coming  athwart  the  stupendous  principle  of 
equal  rights  for  eveiybody  and  everything,  and 
subjecting  ourselves  to  discipline  at  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Bergh’s  society?  Let  us  bear,  suffer,  try,  live 
through,  endure,  prove,  and  undergo ; and  from 
all  this  we  shall  gain  experience  and  become  ex- 
perienced ; but  let  us  not  experience  either  a hay 
crop,  or  a cow,  nor  indeed  any  other  thing. 

Extend.  — The  fondness  for  fine  words  leads 
lecture  committees,  and  other  like  public  bodies,  to 
propose  to  "extend  an  invitation”  to  one  distinguished 
man  or  other,  instead  of  merely  asking  him,  inviting 
him,  or  giving  him  an  invitation ; as,  for  instance, 
it  was  reported  by  telegraph  that  " an  invitation  had 
been  extended  to  Reverdy  Johnson”  to  dine  with 
the  Glasgow  bailies  ; and  in  the  dedication  of  a book 
of  some  ability,  upon  an  important  literary  subject, 
the  cornpliment  is  said  to  be  paid  " in  remembrance 
of  the  kind  interest  extended  to  the  author.”  An 
interest  may  be  taken  or  shown  in  a man,  or  his 
labors ; but  to  extend  an  interest  is  to  make  that 
interest  largrer.  A man  who  has  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars  in  a business,  and  puts  in  ten  thousand  more, 
extends  his  interest  in  that  business.  And,  more- 
over, as  extend  (from  ex  and  tendo)  means  merely 
to  stretch  forth,  it  is  much  better  to  say  that  a man 
put  out,  offered,  or  stretched  forth  his  hand,  than 
that  he  extended  it.  Shakespeare  makes  the  pomp- 
ous, pragmatical  Malvolio  say,  "I  extend  my  hand 
to  him,  thus;”  but  Paul  "stretched  forth  the  hand 
and  answered  for  himself.”  This,  however,  is  a 
question  of  taste,  not  of  correctness. 

Fly  is  very  frequently  misused  for  fiee.  It  has 


ri6  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

even  been  questioned  whether  there  is  a real  differ- 
ence between  these  two  words.  Certainly  there  is ; 
the  distinction  is  valid  and  useful.  Flee  is  a general 
term,  and  means  to  move  away  with  voluntary  ra- 
pidity ; Jly  is  of  special  application,  and  means  to 
move  with  wings,  either  quickly  or  slowly.  True, 
the  words  have  the  same  original ; but  so  have 
sit  and  set^  lie  and  lay.  The  needs  of  language, 
guided  by  instinct,  we  know  not  exactly  how,  ef- 
fected the  distinction  between  these  pairs  of  words, 
and  it  has  been  confirmed  by  the  usage  of  many 
centuries.  The  similarity  between  the  members  of 
each  pair  is  so  great,  and  they  are  so  easily  con- 
fused, that  it  is  difficult  to  decide  what  was  the  usage 
of  any  one  of  our  older  authors  except  in  those  cases 
in  which  their  works  were  very  carefully  printed 
under  their  own  eyes.  The  worth  of  the  distinction 
and  the  real  difference  involved  in  it  will  appear  by 
reading,  instead  of  ” Sisera  lighted  down  off  his 
chariot  and  fled  away  on  his  feet,”  Sisera  lighted 
down  off  his  chariot  and  jlew  away  on  his  feet,  or 
for  ” the  arrow  that  flieth  by  day,”  the  arrow  that 
ileeth  by  day. 

Get,  one  of  the  most  willing  and  serviceable  of 
our  vocal  servants,  is  one  of  the  most  ill  used  and 
imposed  upon  — is,  indeed,  made  a servant  of  all 
work,  even  by  those  who  have  the  greatest  retinue 
of  words  at  their  command.  They  use  the  word 
get — the  radical,  essential,  and  inexpugnable  mean- 
ing of  which  is  the  attainment  of  possession  by  vol- 
untary exertion  — to  express  the  ideas  of  possessing, 
of  receiving,  of  suftering,  and  even  of  doing.  In 
all  these  cases  the  word  is  misused.  A man  gets 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


II7 

riches,  gets  a wife,  gets  children,  gets  well  (after 
falling  sick),  and,  liguratively,  gets  him  to  bed, 
gets  up,  gets  to  his  journey’s  end  — in  brief,  gets 
anything  that  he  wants  and  successfully  strives  for. 
But  we  constantly  hear  educated  people  speak  of 
getting  crazy,  of  getting  a fever,  and  even  of  getting 
a flea  on  one.  A man  hastening  to  the  train  will 
say  that  he  is  afraid  of  getting  left,  and  tell  you 
afterward  that  he  did  or  did  not  get  left  — meaning 
that  he  is  afraid  of  being  left,  and  that  he  was  or 
was  not  left. 

The  most  common  misuse  of  this  word,  however, 
is  to  express  simple  possession.  It  is  said  of  a man 
that  he  has  got  this,  that,  or  the  other  thing,  or  that 
he  has  not  got  it;  what  is  meant  being  simply  that 
he  has  it,  or  has  it  not  — the  use  of  the  word  got 
being  not  only  wrong,  but,  if  right,  superfluous.  If 
we  mean  to  say  that  a man  is  substantially  wealthy, 
our  meaning  is  completely  expressed  by  saying  that 
he  is  rich,  has  a large  estate,  or  has  a handsome 
property.  We  do  not  express  that  fact  a whit  better 
by  saying  that  he  has  got  rich,  or  has  got  a large 
estate ; we  only  pervert  a word  which,  in  that  case, 
is  at  least  entirely  needless,  and  is  probably  some- 
what more  than  needless.  For  it  is  quite  correct  to 
say,  in  tne  very  same  words,  that  by  such  and  such 
a business  or  manoeuvre  the  man  has  gotten  a large 
estate.  Possession  is  completely  expressed  by  have  ; 
get  expresses  attainment  by  exertion.  Therefore 
there  is  no  better  English  than.  Come,  let  us  get 
home ; but  to  say  of  a vagrant  that  he  has  got  no 
home  is  bad.  So  we  read,  "Foxes  have  holes; 
birds  of  the  air  have  nests : but  the  Son  of  Man  hath 


Il8  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

not  where  to  lay  his  head”  — not,  have  got  holes, 
have  got  nests,  hath  not  got  where  to  la}^  his  head. 
The  phrase,  He  got  the  property  through  his  mother 
or  by  his  wife,  is  common,  but  it  is  incorrect.  An 
estate  inherited  is  not  gotten.  The  correct  express 
sion  is.  That  property  came  to  him  through  his 
mother,  or  by  his  wife.  This  word  has  a very  wide 
range,  but  the  boundaries  which  it  cannot  rightfully 
pass  are  very  clearly  defined. 

There  is  among  some  persons  not  uneducated  or 
without  intelligence  a doubt  about  the  past  participle 
of  got — gotten^  which  produces  a disinclination  to 
its  use.  I am  asked,  for  instance,  whether  gotten^ 
like  -proven^  belongs  to  the  list  of  "words  that  are 
not  words.”  Certainly  not.  Prove  is  what  the 
grammars  call  a regular  verb ; that  is,  it  forms  its 
tenses  upon  the  prevailing  system  of  English  verbal 
conjugation,  which  makes  the  perfect  tense  in  cd. 
It  is  in  this  respect  like  love^  the  example  of  regular 
verbal  conjugation  given  in  most  grammars ; and 
we  may  as  well  say  that  Mary  has  loven  John  as  that 
John’s  love  for  Mary  was  not  prove7i.  3ut  £et  is  of 
the  irregular  conjugation,  in  which  the  preterite 
tense  is  formed  by  an  internal  vowel  change,  and  the 
past  participle  in  ji,  with  or  without  such  vowel 
change;  thus — £et,  gat,  gotten.  The  number  of 
these  irregular  verbs,  having  what  is  well  called  a 
strong  preterite,  is  large  in  our  language,  of  which 
they  are  a very  fine  and  interesting  feature,  and  one 
that  we  should  solicitously  preserve  with  their  origi- 
nal native  traits  unchanged.  They  are  all  pure  Eng- 
ish,  and,  if  I remember  rightly,  nearly  all  of  them 
monosyllables.  Such  are  do,  did,  done ; begin  [or 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


II9 

gi7i\  began,  begun  ; spin,  span,  spun  ; slay,  sleiv,  slain , 
fly,  flezu,  flown  ; groiv,  grezv,  grown  ; eat,  ate,  eaten  ; 
thrive,  throve,  thriven;  shake,  shook,  shaken;  speak, 
spake,  spoken  ; drink,  drank,  drunken  ; get,  gat,  gotten. 

There  is  and  has  long  been,  even  among  edu  " 
cated  people,  a proneness  to  error  in  the  use  of 
these  strong  verbs.  A weak  preterite  is  substi 
tuted  for  the  strong ; the  participle  for  the  preterite 
The  former  variation  began  so  early,  and  became 
so  common  in  the  last  century,  that  it  has  been 
assumed  to  indicate  a tendency  of  the  language. 
Long  ago  it  was  noticed  that  the  strong  conju- 
gation hardly  holds  it  own,  while  all  new  verbs 
are  conjugated  weak.  But  the  confusion  of  pre- 
terite and  participle  cannot  be  even  thus  pal- 
liated. Thus  Sterne  says,  “ At  the  close  of  such 
a folio  as  this,  wrote  for  their  sake.”  We  can 
forgive  Yorick  such  errors  as  this,  because  of  the 
many  charming  pages  that  he  has  zvritten  for  our 
sake  ; but  they  were  committed  by  hundreds  of  others 
who  have  not  his  claims  upon  our  forbearance.  This 
mistake,  by  the  by,  is  rarely  made  by  writers  on 
this  side  the  water.  Pope  opens  his  "Messiah” 
with  an  error  of  this  sort,  into  w'hich  he  frequently 
falls. 

“ Rapt  into  future  times  the  bard  begun  : 

A virgin  shall  conceive  and  bear  a son.” 

He  should,  of  course,  have  w'ritten  began;  and  if 
the  need  of  a rh3'me  w’ere  pleaded  and  admitted 
as  his  excuse  in  this  instance,  it  wmuld  not  avail  in 
the  following  passage  in  his  "Essay  on  Criticism,” 
where  — of  all  places!  — he  makes  the  blunder 
at  the  beginning  of  a line,  in  the  body  of  which 


120 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


he  weakens  a preterite  and  an  expression  to- 
gether : — 

“In  the  fat  age  of  pleasure,  wealth,  and  ease, 

Sprung  [sprang]  the  rank  weed,  and  thriv'd  [throve]  with 
large  increase.” 

Again,  in  the  same  poem,  he  has  the  following 
couplet,  without  the  excuse  of  rhyme,  making,  in- 
deed, the  blunder  in  two  words  which  would  have 
rhymed  as  well  if  properly  used  : — 

“ A second  deluge  learning  thus  o'errun  [o’erran], 

And  the  monks  finished  what  the  Goths  begun  [began].” 

So  Savage,  in  his  "Wanderer,”  is  guilty  of  the 
same  fault,  in  mere  wantonness,  it  would  seem,  or 
ignorance  : — 

“ From  Liberty  each  nobler  science  sprung  [sprang], 

A Bacon  brightened  and  a Spenser  sung  [sang].” 

And  Swift  writes,  "the  sun  has  7'ose,''  "will  have 
stole  it,”  and  "have  mistookl^  For  the  sake  of 
illustration,  I cite  the  following  instance  of  the  right 
use  of  the  strong  preterite  and  past  participle  in  the 
same  sentence  : — 

“A  certain  man  made  a great  supper,  and  hade  many;  and 
sent  his  servant  at  supper-time  to  say  to  them  that  were  bidden, 
Come,  for  all  things  are  now  ready.”  — Luke  xiv.  17. 

The  confusion  of  the  preterite  and  the,  past  parti- 
ciple of  do,  which  is  so  frequent  among  entirely 
illiterate  people  — He  done  it,  for  He  did  it,  and  He, 
has  did  it>  for  He  has  done  it  — -provokes  a smile 
from  those  who  themselves  are  guilty  of  exactly 
corresponding  errors.  For  instance : He  begun 
well,  for  He  began  well ; His  father  had  hade  him 
to  go  home,  for  Ilis  father  had  bidden  him  go 
home  ; and  The  jury  has  sat  a long  while,  for  The 
jury  has  sitten  a long  while.  Thus  got,  having  by 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


I2I 


custom  been  poorly  substituted  for  gat^  so  that  we 
say  He  got  away,  instead  of  He  gat  awa} , many 
persons  abbreviate  gotten  into  got^  saying  He  had 
got,  for  He  had  gotten  ; and  hence  the  doubt  whether 
gotten  is  not  really,  proven,  a word  that  is  no 
word.  But  if  got  is  the  preterite  of  get,  as  did  is 
of  do.  He  had  got  is  an  error  of  the  same  class  as 
He  had  did ; and,  on  the  other  hand,  if  got  is  the 
past  participle  of  get,  as  done  is  of  do.  He  got  is 
really  no  worse  than  He  done  — onl}^  more  common 
among  people  of  some  education.  Among  such 
people  we  too  often  hear.  He  had  rode,  for  He  had 
ridden,  and,  perhaps,  most  frequently  of  all  this  class 
of  errors,  I had  drank,  for  I had  drunk,  or  (better) 
I had  drunken,  and  I d^'iink,  for  I drank. 

Contrary  to  common  supposition,  the  irregularity 
of  these  strong  verbs  is  not  in  their  deviation  from 
the  weak  form  of  conjugation  — with  the  preterite 
in  ed  ox  d.  They  have  merely  a peculiar  form  of 
conjugation ; and  their  inflections  (so  to  speak  of 
an  internal  change)  are  as  systematic  as  those 
of  the  other  and  larger  division  of  the  same  part 
of  speech.  The  really  irregular  verbs  are  the 
strong  which  have  acquired  weak  preterites.  We 
have  all  of  us  laughed  often  enough  at  "First  it 
blew,  and  then  it  snew,  and  then  it  thew,  and  then 
it  friz.”  But  if  this  were  ever  uttered  in  good  faith 
(and  it  may  have  been  so),  it  was  the  product  of 
ignorance  only  as  to  the  last  word.  Snew  is  the 
regular  preterite  of  snow,  the  regular  past  parti- 
ciple of  which  is  not  snowed,  but  snown.  E,  g\, 
grow,  grew,  grown  ; throw,  threw,  thrown  ; 
blow,  blew,  blown.  The  preterite  snew  is  to  be 


122 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


found  in  our  early  literature.  Gower  uses  it,  and 
Douglas,  in  his  translation  of  the  ^neid,  the  maker 
of  the  glossary  to  which  (said  in  an  old  manuscript 
note  in  my  copy  to  have  been  John  Urry)  errone- 
ously marks  it  as  a Scotticism.  Holinshed,  noticing 
an  entertainment  called  Dido^  given  in  the  year 
1583,  says  that  in  the  course  of  it,  ”it  snew  an  arti- 
ficial kind  of  snow  ” ; and  in  the  account,  given  in 
Sprott’s  "Chronicles,”  of  the  battle  of  Towton,  we 
find  " and  all  the  season  it  snew,^^  It  is  only  accord- 
ing to  present  usage  that  snow  is  an  irregular  verb ; 
and  it  is  so  because  snowed  is  the  vagary  of  some 
man  struggling  long  ago  toward  supposed  regular- 
ity. The  regular  conjugation  of  these  verbs  in  ow 
is  to  form  the  preterite  in  ezv  and  the  past  participle 
in  wn  ; as  throw ^ threw ^ thrown  ; and  snow,  snowed, 
snowed  is  as  irregular  as  throw,  throzved,  throwed 
would  be,  or  blow,  blowed,  blowed.  But  although 
there  is  high  authority  for  the  phrase,  "You  be 
blowed,”  I cannot  but  look  upon  it  quoad  hoc  as  a 
corruption.  Show,  sow,  and  mow  have  been,  like 
snow,  perverted  from  their  regular  conjugation. 
The  conjugation,  according  to  the  usage  now  in 
vogue,  is  show,  showed,  shown  ; sovj,  sowed,  sown, 
and  mozu,  mowed,  mown,  in  which  we  have  a pre- 
terite of  one  form  of  conjugation,  and  a past  parti- 
ciple of  another — a union  of  incongruity  and  irregu- 
larity quite  anomalous.  But  the  regular  preterites 
have  not  yet  been  quite  ousted  by  the  interlopers. 
In  some  parts  of  England  mew  and  sczv  are  still 
heard  instead  of  mozved  and  sowed.  In  some  parts 
of  New  England,  and  notably  in  Boston,  we  still 
near  from  intelligent  and  not  uneducated  people; 
He  shew  (pronounced  shoo)  me  the  way,  which  is 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


23 


sneered  at  by  persons  who  do  not  know  that  shew 
is  the  regular  and  shoived  an  irregular  preterite, 
the  use  of  which  is  justified  only  by  custom.  The 
preterite  shciv  occurs  in  the  following  interesting 
passage  of  the  Wycliffite  “ Apology  for  the  LoU 
lards,”  written  about  A.  D.  1375,  in  which  there  is 
the  Anglo-Saxon  preterite  strake,  of  strike : — 

“Sin  Jeshu  was  temptid,  he  overcam  hunger  in  desert,  he 
despicid  auarice  in  the  hille,  he  strak  ageyn  veynglorie  upon  the 
temple  ; that  he  schew  to  us  that  he  that  may  ageynsey  his  womb 
\i.  e,,  deny  his  belly],  and  despice  the  goodis  of  this  world  and 
desire  not  veynglorie,  he  howith  \i.  e.,  oweth,  ought]  to  be  maad 
Christ’s  vicar.” 

Although  new  verbs  take  the  weak  form,  the 
deprived  strong  verbs  have  for  two  generations 
been  reclaiming  their  own  preterites.  Some  of  the 
latter  were  nearly  lost  in  the  last  century,  when, 
for  example,  shined  for  shone^  drinked  for  drank, 
strived  for  strove,  catehed  for  eanght,  teaehed  for 
taught,  and  beseeched  for  besought  were  common.”* 
And  we  have  digged  for  dug,  not  only  in  the  Bible 
and  in  Shakespeare,  but  earlier.  Now  good  wri 
ters  and  speakers  use  the  strong  form  of  those 
verbs.  The  fact  that  some  of  them,  like  teach  and 
catch,  belonged  in  an  earlier  stcige  of  the  language 
to  a mixed  form  of  conjugation,  which  combined 
the  vowel  change  of  the  strong  with  the  terminal 
inflection  of  the  weak,  has  no  bearing  on  the  ten- 
dency in  question.  It  is  not  impossible  that  this 
restoration  may  go  on.  The  participle  snozvn  will; 

I think,  surely  resume  the  place  to  which  it  has  the 
game  right  as  flown  and  grozvn  have  to  theirs. 

♦ “ If  parts  allure  thee,  think  how  Bacon  shin'd 
The  wisest,  brightest,  meanest  of  mankind.” 

Pope.  Epistle  IV, 


124 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Gratuitous.  — An  affected  use  of  this  word  has 
of  late  become  too  common.  It  is  used  in  the  vari- 
ous senses,  unfounded,  unwarranted,  unreasonable, 
untrue,  no  one  of  which  can  be  given  to  it  with 
propriety.  It  is  not  thus  used  either  by  the  culti-  • 
vated,  or  by  those  who  speak  plain  English  in  a 
plain  way,  they  know  not  why  or  how,  and  who 
are  content  to  call  a spade  a spade.  G7'attiitoiis 
means,  without  payment ; as,  for  instance.  Professor 
A.  delivered  a gratuitous  lecture.  What  meaning 
can  it  have,  then,  in  a sentence  like  the  following? 
''The  assumption  of  Senator  Fessenden,  that  a man 
who  goes  into  a caucus  and  acts  there  is  bound 
to  vote  in  House  or  Senate  in  accordance  with  the 
decision  of  the  caucus  majority,  is  wholly  gratui- 
tous.” It  is  not  gratuitous  ; it  may  be  unwaranted,  in- 
tolerable, unreasonable.  But  this  word  is  supposed 
to  mean  something  else,  people  don’t  know  exactly 
what  or  why,  and,  therefore,  because  of  this  very 
ignorance,  they  use  it.  For,  in  language,  the 
unknown  is  generally  taken  for  the  magnificent. 
True,  dictionaries  are  found  in  which  gratuitous  is 
defined  as  meaning  " asserted  without  proof  or  rea- 
son.” But  in  a moment’s  reflection  any  intelligent 
person  will  see  gratuitous  cannot  mean  asserted, 
in  any  manner.  Dictionaries  have  come  to  be,  in 
too  many  cases,  the  pernicious  record  of  unreasona- 
ble, unwarranted,  and  fleeting  usage. 

Grow  is  even  more  perverted  than  get  is,  in 
vulgar  use,  although  the  misapplications  of  it  are 
not  so  numerous,  it  properly  means  to  increase, 
and  expresses  either  enlargement  or  development. 

It  is,  on  the  contrary,  widely  used  in  the  sense  of 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


125 


become,  and  even  ot  dimmish.  An  acorn  grows 
into  an  oak,  an  egg  into  a bird,  a fish,  or  other  anh 
mal.  Grow  has  therefore  normally  come  to  be 
used  to  express  a passage  from  one  state  to  another ; 
as,  to  grow  mild,  to  grow  faint,  to  grow  dark.  But  . 
what  is  large  cannot  be  reasonably  said  to  grow 
smaller : e.g.,  after  the  full,  the  moon  grows  smaller. 
It  lessens,  diminishes  ; the  opposite  of  growth.  And 
in  general  even  a change  of  condition  is  more 
accurately  expressed  by  beco^ne  than  by  grow. 

Help.  — I have  heard  objection  made  to  the  use 
of  this  word  ”in  the  sense  of  avoid,”  which  I notice 
only  because  such  a criticism  is  a good  example  of 
a prim,  precise  treatment  of  language  that  would 
deprive  it  of  all  strength  and  flexibility.  There  is 
no  better  English  than  ” I can’t  help  it,”  which  is  a 
compact  and  homely  way  of  saying  the  matter  is 
beyond  my  aid.  Aufidius,  when  he  is  told  that 
the  presence  of  Coriolanus  overshadows  him,  re- 
plies,— 

“ I cannot  help  it  now, 

Unless  by  using  means  I lame  the  foot 
Of  our  design.” 

But  the  use  of  the  word  in  this  sense  must  be  much 
older  than  Shakespeare’s  poetry.  It  is  one  of  those 
quasi  idiomatic  uses  of  words  (impossible  in  this 
instance  in  French  or  Latin,  for  examole)  that  are’ 
inevitable,  that  should  not  be  unsettled,  that,  in- 
deed, cannot  be  helped.  There  is  no  surer  way  to 
a weak,  poor,  artificial  style  than  the  sitting  in 
judgement  upon  the  use  of  words  and  phrases  of 
spontaneous  growth,  which  are  not  at  variance  with 
reason,  and  which  have  been  used  for  centuries  bj; 


126 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  A man  who  uses 
language  as  Sampson,  the  valiant  retainer  of  the 
Capulet,  bit  his  thumb,  only  when  he  has  the  law  on 
his  side,  will  soon  come  to  write  like  an  attorney 
drawing  a lawpaper. 

Help  Meet.  — - An  absurd  use  of  these  two 
words,  as  if  they  together  were  the  name  of  one  thing 
^ — a wife  — is  too  common.  They  are  frequently 
printed  with  a hyphen,  as  a compound  word;  and 
there  is  your  man  who  thinks  it  at  once  tender, 
respectful,  biblical,  and  humorous  to  speak  of  his 
wife  as  his  help-meet ; and  this  merely  because  in 
Genesis  we  are  told  that  woman  was  given  to  man 
as  a help  that  was  meet,  fit,  suitable  for  him.  "I 
will  make  him  an  help  meet  for  him  ; ” not  " I will 
make  a helpmeet  for  him.”  Our  biblical  friend 
might  as  well  call  his  "partner,”  his  help-fit,  or 
help-proper.  That  this  protest  is  not  superfluous, 
even  as  regards  people  of  education,  may  be  seen 
by  the  following  sentence  in  a work  — and  one  of 
ability,  too  — on  the  English  language.  "Heaven 
gave  Eve,  as  a help-meet,  to  Adam.”  Here  the 
hyphen  and  the  change  of  the  preposition  from  fo7‘ 
to  to^  leave  no  doubt  as  to  the  nature  of  the  blun- 
der, which  is  lamentable  and  laughable.  And  3^et 
Matthew  Harrison,  the  author  of  the  work  in  which 
it  appears,  is  not  only  a clergyman  of  the  Church 
of  England,  but  Fellow  of  Queen’s  College,  Oxford. 

So  a writer  of  some  distinction  in  "The  Galaxy,” 
says,  that  " woman  was  designed  by  her  Creator 
to  be  a helpmeet  to  man;”  and  we  are  told  in  a 
leading  article  in  "The  Tribune”  on  IMormon  affairs 
that  " the  saints  have  gone  on  with  their  wholesale 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


127 


marrying  and  sealing,  and  the  head  prophet  has 
taken  his  forty-iifth  help-meet.” 

Humanitarian  is  very  strangely  perverted  by  a 
certain  class  of  speakers  and  writers.  It  is  a theo- 
logical word;  and  its  original  meaning  is,  One  who' 
denies  the  godhead  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  insists  upon 
his  human  nature.  But  it  is  used  by  the  people  in 
question,  whose  example  has  infected  others,  as  if 
it  meant  humane,  and  something  more.  Now,  as 
the  meaning  of  humane  is  recognizing  in  a common 
humanity  a bond  of  kindness,  good  will,  and  good 
offices,  it  is  difficult  to  discover  what  more  htmiani- 
tarian^  if  admitted  in  this  sense,  could  mean.  In 
brief,  humane  covers  the  whole  ground,  and  hu^ 
manitarian^  used  in  the  sense  of  widely-benevolent 
and  philanthropic,  is  mere  cant,  the  result  of  an 
effort  by  certain  people  to  elevate  and  to  appropri- 
ate to  themselves  a common  feeling  by  giving  it  a 
grand  and  peculiar  name.  Mr.  Gladstone  uses  this 
word  correctly  in  the  following  passage,  in  which 
he  is  speaking  of  the  Olympian  system  of  theo- 
mythology  set  forth  by  Homer. 

“ Homer  reflected  upon  his  Olympos  the  ideas,  passions,  and 
appetites  known  to  us  all,  with  such  a force  that  they  became 
with  him  the  paramount  power  in  the  construction  of  the  Greek 
religion.  This  humanitarian  element  gradually  subdued  to 
itself  all  that  it  found  in  Greece  of  traditions  already  recognized, 
whether  primitive  or  modern,  whether  Hellenic,  Pelasgian,  or 
foreign.”  — Jicve7itus  Mundi^  Clap.  VII.  p.  iSi. 

Ice-water,  Ice-cream.  — By  mere  carelessness 
in  enunciation  these  compound  words  have  come 
to  be  used  for  iced~watcr  and  ieed-cream  — most 
incorrectly  and  with  a real  confusion  of  language, 
if  not  of  thought.  For  what  is  called  ice-water  is 


128 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


not  made  from  ice,  but  is  simply  water  iced,  that 
is,  made  cold  by  ice  ; and  ice- water  might  be  warm, 
as  snow-water  often  is.  Ice-cream  is  unknown. 

Inaugurate  is  a word  which  might  better  be 
eschewed  by  all  those  who  do  not  wish  to  talk 
Ifigh-flying  nonsense,  else  they  will  find  themselves 
led  by  bad  examples  into  using  it  in  the  sense  of 
begin,  open,  set  up,  establish.  The  Latin  word, 
of  which  it  is  merely  an  Anglicized  form,  meant  to 
take  omens  from  the  flight  of  birds  and  the  inspection 
of  their  entrails  and  those  of  beasts,  and  hence  was 
applied  to  the  occasions  at  which  such  omens  were 
chiefly  sought.  To  inaugurate  is  to  receive  or  in- 
duct into  office  with  solemn  ceremonies.  The  occa- 
sions are  very  few  in  regard  to  which  it  may  be 
used  with  propriety.  But  we  shall  read  ere  long 
of  cooks  inaugurating  the  preparation  of  a dinner, 
and  old  Irish  women  inaugurating  a peanut  stand ; 
as  well  these  as  inaugurating,  instead  of  opening,  a 
ball,  or  inaugurating,  instead  of  setting  up,  or  estab- 
lishing, a business.  Howells  affords  the  following 
good  example  of  the  figurative  use  of  the  word  : 
"To  inaugurate  a good  and  jovial  year,  I send  you 
a morning’s  draught,  viz.,  a bottle  of  metheglin.”  — 
Letters^  IV.  41. 

Initiate  is  one  of  the  long,  pretentious  words 
that  are  coming  into  vogue  among  those  who  would 
be  fine.  It  means  begin  ; no  more,  no  less.  It  may 
be  more  elegant  to  say.  The  kettle  took  the  initiative, 
than  to  use  the  homelier  phrase  to  which  our  ears 
have  been  accustomed  ; but  I have  not  been  able  to 
make  the  discovery.  And  I may  as  well  here  de- 
spatch a rabble  of  such  words,  all  of  kindred  origin 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


129 


and  pretentious  seeming.  Unless  a man  is  a crown 
prince,  or  other  important  public  functionary,  it  is 
well  for  him  to  have  a house  and  a home,  where  he 
lives,  not  a place  of  residence^  where  he  resides. 
From  this  let  him  and  his  household  go  to  churcF 
or  to  meeting,  if  they  like  to  do  so  ; but  let  not  the 
inmates  -proceed  to  the  sanctuary . And  if,  being 
able  and  willing  to  do  good,  he  gives  something  to 
the  parson  for  the  needy,  let  him  send  his  cheque, 
and  not  transjuit  it.  Let  him  oversee  his  household 
and  his  business,  not  supervise  them.  Let  him  re- 
ject, disown,  refuse,  or  condemn  what  he  does  not 
like,  but  not  repudiate  it,  unless  he  expects  to  cause 
shame,  or  to  sutler  it,  in  consequence  of  his  action  ,* 
and  what  he  likes  let  him  like  or  approve  or  uphold, 
but  not  indorse ; and,  indeed,  as  to  indorsing,  let 
him  do  as  little  of  that  as  possible.  I have  come  fron 
pretension  into  the  shop,  and,  therefore,  I add,  that 
if  he  is  informed  upon  a subject,  has  learned  all 
about  it,  knows  it,  and  understands  it,  let  him  say. 
so,  not  that  he  is  well  posted  on  it.  He  will  say 
what  he  means,  simply,  clearly,  and  forcibly,  rather 
than  pretentiously,  vulgarly,  and  feebly.  It  is  note- 
worthy and  significant  that  the  man  who  will  say 
that  he  is  posted  up  on  this  or  that  subject,  is  the 
very  one  who  will  use  such  a foolish,  useless,  preten- 
tious word  as  recuperate.,  instead  oi  recover . Thus 
the  Washington  correspondent  of  aleading  journal 
wrote  that  General  Grant  and  Mr.  Speaker  Colfax 
expected  to  start  for  Colorado  on  the  first  of  July, 
and  that  their  trip  is  ” for  the  sole  purpose  of  re- 
cuperating their  health.”  If  the  writer  had  omitted 
five  of  the  eight  words  which  he  used  to  express  the 


130 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


purpose  of  the  travellers,  and  said  the  trip  is  ”for 
health  only,”  his  sentence  would  have  been  bettered 
inversely  as  the  square  of  the  number  of  words 
omitted.  But  it  will  not  do  to  be  so  very  exacting 
as  to  ask  people  not  to  use  many  more  words  than 
are  necessary,  and  so  all  that  can  be  reasonably 
hoped  for  is,  that  recuperate  may  be  shown  to  the 
door  by  those  who  have  been  weak  enough  to  admit 
him.  He  is  a mere  pompous  impostor.  At  most 
and  best,  recuperate  means  recover  ; not  a jot  more 
or  less.  Recover  came  to  us  English  through  our 
Norman-French  kinsfolk,  and  sometime  conquerors. 
It  is  merely  their  rccouvrer  domesticated  in  our 
household.  They  got  it  from  the  Latin  rccuperare. 
But  why  we  should  go  to  that  word  to  make  another 
from  it,  which  is  simply  a travesty  of  recover^  passes 
reasonable  understanding.  But  I must  have  done 
with  such  minute  and  particular  criticism  of  verbal 
extravagance,  having  written  thus  much  onl}^  by 
way  of  suggestion,  remonstrance,  and  illustration. 
It  would  be  Vv^ell  if  all  such  words  as  those  of  which 
I have  just  treated  could  be  gathered  under  one 
head,  to  be  struck  off  at  a blow  by  those  who  would 
like  to  execute  justice  on  them. 

Jew. — A noteworthy  objection  has  been  made 
of  late  years  by  Jews  to  the  common  use  of  this 
designation.  I remember  two  instances,  in  one  of 
which  the  "Pall  Mall  Gazette”  of  London,  and  in 
the  other  the  "New  York  Times,”  was  taken  to 
task  for  mentioning  that  certain  criminals  were 
Jews.  In  each  case  the  same  question  was  asked, 
in  effect  if  not  in  words.  Would  you  speak  of  the 
arrest  of  two  Episcopalians,  a Puseyite,  three  Presby- 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


131 

terians,  and  a Baptist?  and  in  each  case  there  was 
an  apology  made,  and  a promise  given  that  the 
offence”  should  not  be  repeated.  What  offence 
could  be  reasonably  taken  at  this  designation,  it^ 
would  be  difficult  to  discover.  The  Jews  are  a 
peculiar  people,  who,  in  virtue  of  that  strongly- 
marked  and  exclusive  nationality  which  they  so 
religiously  cherish,  have  outlived  the  Pharaohs  who 
oppressed  them,  and  who  seem  likely  to  outlive  the 
Pyramids  on  which  they  labored.  And  when  they 
are  mentioned  as  Jews,  no  allusion  is  meant  or  made 
to  their  faith,  but  to  their  race.  A parallel  case  to 
those  complained  of  would  be  the  saying  that  a 
Frenchman  or  a Spaniard  had  committed  a crime, 
at  which  no  offence  is  ever  taken.  A Jew  is  a Jew, 
whether  he  holds  to  the  faith  of  his  fathers  or  leaves 
it  for  that  of  Christ  or  of  Mohammed.  The  complaint 
rests  on  a confusion  of  the  distinctions  of  race  with 
those  of  religion,  owing  to  the  fact  that  in  this  case  the 
boundaries  of  the  race  and  the  religion  are  almost 
identical.  But  it  is  none  the  less  confusion. 

Jewelry,  as  applied  to  trinkets  and  urecious 
stones,  means,  properly,  jewels  in  general,  iiot  any 
particular  jewels.  Its  use  in  the  latter  sense  is  of 
very  low  caste.  Think  of  Cornelia  pointing  to  the 
Gracchi  and  saying,  “These  are  my  jewelry or 
read  thus  a grand  passage  in  the  last  of  the  Hebrew 
prophets : “ And  they  shall  be  mine,  said  the  Lord 
of  Hosts,  in  that  day  when  I make  up  my  jeivelry  ! ” 
The  word  is  of  very  late  introduction,  not  being  in 
Shakespeare,  the  Bible,  Milton,  or  Johnson’s  Dic- 
tionary. Richardson’s  earliest  authority  for  it  is 
Burke,  who  speaks  of  “ the  jewelry  and  goods  of 


32 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


India,”  where  the  two  nouns  are  happily  conjoined 
For  jezvelry,  like  goods,  is  a general  and  somewhat 
abstract  term ; and  the  frequent  misapplication  of 
the  former  to  particular  articles  of  ornament  is  akin 
to  that  of  the  latter  to  particular  articles  of  dress, 
which  is  pointed  out  on  page  143.  So  Burke  might 
well  have  spoken  of  the  spicery  of  India,  but  of  the 
spices,  not  the  spicery,  in  a pudding.  'Jewelry  is 
the  most  important  department  at  Tiffany’s,  but  the 
necklace,  brooch,  and  earrings  that  a lady  is  wear- 
ing are  not  her  jewelry,  but  her  jewels.  In  brief, 
such  words  as  spice  and  spicery,  jewels  and  jewelry 
are  not  synonymes.  They  distinguish  the  particu- 
lar from  the  general. 

The  termination  ry,  ary,  or  ery  is  of  heteroge- 
neous origin  and  of  various  and  not  easily  deter- 
minable meaning.  But  neither  its  history  nor  its 
meaning  is  to  our  present  purpose  ; and  of  the 
words  which  have  this  ending  we  are  concerned 
only  with  a class  of  about  fifty  nouns  which  express 
primarily  place,  or  condition,  which  is  moral  place. 
Such  are  belfry,  library,  bakery,  slavery,  beggary  and 
the  like.  To  this  class  jewelry  belongs  in  one  of 
its  senses,  which  may  be  that  in  which  it  was  first 
used.  For  the  same  or  a similar  difference  obtains 
between  jezvelry,  jewels  in  general,  and  jezvelry,  a 
place  for  jewels,  that  there  is  between  surgery,  an 
art,  and  surgery,  a place  where  the  art  is  practised ; 
battery,  the  act  of  battering,  and  battery,  a collec- 
tion of  battering  engines ; gentry,  the  condition  of 
gentleness  in  blood,  and  gentry,  those  who  are  in 
that  condition ; poultry,  fowls  in  general,  and  poultry^ 
the  place  where  fowls  are  kept  or  sold.  In  which 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


133 


sense  jewelry  was  first  used  is  not  known  ; but  as  • 
pastry^  confectionery,  and  shrubbery  were  first  used 
to  express  the  place,  the  locus  in  quo  of  paste,  con- 
fections, and  shrubs,  a like  origin  of  jezuelry  is  ^ 
probable.  This  supposition  receives  support  from 
the  fact  that  the  old  French  word  joyaulrie  was  de- 
fined by  Cotgrave,  A.  D.  1611,  only  as  “the  trade 
and  mystery  of  jewelling.”  As  jewelry  is  but  an 
Anglicised  form  of  joyaulrie,  it  seems  likely  that  the 
former  was  brought  in  by  the  jewellers  themselves  ; 
and  that  when  written  shop-signs  took  the  place  of 
symbols,  jezvelry  was  so  used,  meaning  at  first  the 
art  and  mystery  (as  such  words  on  signs  do  often 
now-a-days),  but  afterward  by  natural  transition,  a 
place  where  the  art  was  practised  and  its  produc- 
tions were  stored.  Thence  the  transition  would 
be  natural  to  the  meaning,  a miscellaneous  collec- 
tion of  such  productions,  or  jewels  in  general, 
which,  and  not  particular  jewels,  seems  clearly 
to  be  its  proper  meaning.  So  we  wear  and  use 
arms ; but  a place  where  arms  are  kept,  and  a 
collection  of  arms  or  arms  in  general,  we  call 
an  armory. 

Kinsman.  — For  this  hearty  English  word,  full 
of  manhood  and  warm  blood,  elegant  people  have 
forced  upon  us  two  very  vague,  misty  substitutes  — 
relation  and  connection.  By  the  use  of  the  latter 
words  in  place  of  the  former,  nothing  is  gained  and 
much  is  lost.  Both  of  them  are  very  general  terms. 
Men  have  relations  of  various  kinds,  and  connec- 
tions are  of  still  wider  distribution.  Even  in  regard 
to  family  and  friends,  it  is  impossible  to  give  these 
words  exactness  of  meaning ; whereas  a man’s  kin, 


^34 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


his  kinsmen,  are  onl}^  those  of  his  own  blood.  His 
cousin  is  his  kinsman,  but  his  brother-in-law  is  not. 
Yet  relation  is  made  to  express  both  connections, 
one  of  blood,  and  the  other  of  law.  In  losing  Mns- 
man  we  lose  also  his  frank,  sweet-lipped  sister, 
kinswoman^  and  «ire  obliged  to  give  her  place  to 
that  poor,  mealy-mouthed,  ill-made-up  Latin  inter- 
loper, relation. 

Leave.  — This  verb  is  very  commonly  ill  used 
by  being  left  without  an  object.  Thus  : Jones  left 
this  morning ; I shall  leave  this  evening.  Left 
what?  shall  leave  what?  Not  the  morning  or  the 
evening,  but  home,  town,  or  country.  When  this 
verb  is  used,  the  mention  of  the  place  referred  to 
is  absolutely  necessary.  To  wind  up  a story  with. 
Then  he  left,”  is  as  bad  as  to  say,  then  he  sloped  — 
worse,  for  sloj^ed  is  recognized  slang. 

Lie,  Lay. — There  is  the  same  difference  between 
these  two  verbs  that  there  is  between  sit  and  set. 
The  difficulty  which  many  persons  find  in  using 
them  correctly  will  be  removed  by  remembering 
that  Jay  means  transitive  action,  and  //c,  rest.  This 
difference  between  the  words  existed  in  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  stage  of  our  language  ; lay  being  merely  the 
modern  form  of  leegan,  to  put  down,  to  cause  to 
lie  down,  and  so,  to  kill,  — in  Latin,  deponere.,  oeei- 
dere^  — and  lie  the  modern  form  of  liegan^  to 
extend  along,  to  repose  — in  Latin,  oeetimbere.  Lie 
is  rarely  used  instead  of  lay^  but  the  latter  is  often 
incorrectly  substituted  for  the  former.  Many  per- 
sons will  say,  I was  laying  (lying)  down  for  a nap : 
very  few.  She  was  lying  (laying)  down  her  shawl, 
or.  He  was  lying  down  the  law.  The  frequent  con- 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


135 


fusion  of  the  two  verbs  in  this  respect  is  strange  ; for 
almost  every  one  of  us  heard  them  rightly  used  from 
the  time  when  he  lay  at  his  mother’s  breast  and  until 
he  outgrew  the  sweet  privilege  of  lying  in  the  twi-^ 
light  and  hearing  her  voice  mingle  with  his  fading 
consciousness. 

“ Hush,  my  babe,  lie  still  and  slumber.” 

“ Now  I lay  me  down  to  sleep.” 

The  tendency  to  the  confusion  of  the  two  verbs 
may  be  partly  due  to  the  fact  that  the  preterite  of 
lie  is  lay, 

“ In  the  slumbers  of  midnight  the  sailor  boy  lay  ; ” 

and  that  this  expression  of  the  most  perfect  rest  is 
identical  in  sound  with  the  expression  of  the  most 
violent  action. 

Lay  on,  Macdulf, 

And  damn’d  be  he  who  first  cries.  Hold,  enough ! ” 

Even  Byron  uses  lay  incorrectly  in  " Childe  Harold.” 

“ And  dashest  him  again  to  earth  — there  let  him  lay.” 

The  keeping  in  mind  the  distinction  that  lay  ex- 
presses transitive  action,  and  lie  rest,  as  is  shown 
in  the  following  examples,  will  prevent  all  confusion 
of  the  two  : — 

I lay  myself  upon  the  bed  (action).  I lie  upon 
the  bed  (rest) . 

I laid  myself  upon  the  bed  (action) . I lay  upon 
tlie  bed  (rest). 

I have  laid  myself  upon  the  bed  (action).  I 
have  lain  upon  the  bed  (rest). 

A hen  lays  an  egg  (action) . A ship  lies  at  the 
wharf  (rest).  The  murdered  Lincoln in  state 
(rest)  ; the  people  laid  the  crime  upon  the  rebels  •> 
f action) . 


136 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


The  need  there  is  for  these  remarks  could  not 
be  better  shewn  than  by  the  following  ludicrous  pas- 
sages in  the  Rules  of  the  Senate  and  the  Rules  of  the 
House  of  Representatives  of  the  United  States  : — 

“When  a question  is  under  debate,  no  motion  shall  be  re- 
ceived but  to  adjourn,  to  lie  on  the  table,  to  postpone  indefinite- 
ly,” &c.  — Se7iate  Rule  ii. 

“ When  a question  is  under  debate,  no  motion  shall  be  received 
but  to  adjourn,  to  lie  on  the  table,  for  the  previous  question,”  &c. 
— House  Rule  42. 

And  SO  it  is  all  through  the  Manual.  Now,  con- 
sidering the  condition  in  which  honorable  gentlemen 
sometimes  appear  on  the  door,  if  the  rule  had  been 
” no  motion  shall  ^ received  but  to  lie  under  the 
table,”  the  Manual  would,  in  this  respect,  have  been 
beyond  censure.  The  correct  uses  of  lie  and  lay 
are  finely  discriminated  in  the  following  passages 
from  the  Book  of  Ruth,  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  carefully  written  in  our  translation  of  the 
Bible  : — 

“ And  it  shall  be  that  when  he  lieth  down,  that  thou  shalt  mark 
the  place  where  he  shall  lie  ; and  thou  shalt  go  in  and  uncover 
\iis  feet  and  lay  thee  down.  And  when  Boaz  had  eaten  and 
Crunk,  and  his  heart  was  merry,  he  went  to  lie  down  at  the  end 
of  the  heap  of  corn,  and  she  came  softly  and  uncovered  his  feet 
and  laid  her  down.  . . . and  behold  a woman  lay  at  his  feet. 

, . . lie  down  until  the  morning.  And  she  lay  at  his  feet 
until  the  morning.”  — Chap.  III.  4,  7,  13,  14. 

Like,  As. — The  confusion  of  these  two  words, 
which  are  of  like  meaning,  but  have  difterent  func- 
tions, produces  obscurity  in  the  writing  even  of  men 
who  have  been  well  educated.  Of  this  I find  an 
instructive  and  characteristic  example  in  a London 
paper  of  high  standing — "The  Spectator.”  In  an 
article  supporting  a remonsti'ance  of  the  London 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


137 


gas-stokers  against  being  compelled  to  work  twelv^e 
hours  a day  for  seven  days  of  the  week  before  huge 
fires  in  a temperature  often  of  one  hundred  and  eighty 
degrees,  the  writer,  deprecating  a strike  by  the, 
stokers,  goes  on  to  say,  "The  Directors  could  fill 
their  places  in  three  hours  from  the  docks  alone ; 
but  that  does  not  give  them  a right  to  use  up  English- 
men like  Cuban  planters.”  But  how  have  directors 
of  British  gas  companies  the  right  to  use  up  Cuban 
planters?  and  how  could  they  use  up  Cuban  plant- 
ers? There  are  no  answers  to  these  inevitable 
questions,  and  the  sentence  as  it  stands  is  sheer 
nonsense.  But  a little  thought  discovers  that  what 
the  writer  meant  to  say  was,  that  the  directors  had 
no  right  to  use  up  Englishmen  as  Cuban  planters 
use  up  negroes.  His  meaningless  sentence  was  the 
result  of  the  confusion  of  like  and  as^  which  is  com- 
mon with  careless  speakers.  Thus,  for  instance, 
He  don’t  do  it  like  you  do,  instead  of  as  you  do. 
l^ike  and  as  both  express  similarity,  but  the  former 
compares  things,  the  latter  action  or  existence.  We 
may  say  correctly,  John  is  like  James,  and  may 
express  the  same  opinion  by  saying  that  John  is  such 
a man  as  James  is.  We  ma}^  say,  A’s  speech  is  like 
B's,  or,  A speaks  as  B does ; but  not  A’s  speech  is 
^s  B’s,  or,  A speaks  like  B does.  When  as  is  cor- 
rectly used,  a verb  is  expressed  or  understood.  The 
woman  is  as  tall  as  the  man,  i.  ^.,  as  the  man  is. 
With  lilce^  a verb  is  neither  expressed  nor  under- 
stood. He  does  his  work  like  a man ; not,  like  a 
man  works. 

Loan  is  not  a verb,  but  a noun.  A loan  is  the 
completed  act  of  lending,  01  is  the  thing  lent.  The 


138  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

word  is  the  past  participle  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  verb 
Icenan^  to  lend,  and  therefore  of  course  means  lent. 
It  may  sound  larger  to  some  people  to  say  that  they 
loaned  than  that  they  lent  a thousand  dollars — ■ 
more  as  if  the  loan  were  an  important  transaction ; 
but  that  can  be  only  because  they  are  either  ignorant 
or  snobbish. 

Locate  is  a common  Americanism,  insufferable 
to  ears  at  all  sensitive.  If  a gentleman  chooses  to 
say,  "I  guess  I shall  locate  in  Muzzouruh,”  meaning 
that  he  thinks  he  shall  settle  in  Missouri,  he  has, 
doubtless,  the  right,  as  a free  and  independent  citizen 
of  the  United  States,  to  say  so.  Certainly  locate 
and  Muzzoiiriih  should  be  left  together ; each  in  fit 
company.  Locate  is  simply  a big  word  for  flace 
or  settle  ; and  a man  for  whom  those  words  are  not 
ample  enough,  may  correctly  speak  of  locating  him- 
self, his  family,  or  his  business  here  or  elsewhere. 
But  locate  without  an  object  is  suited  to  the  use  of 
those  only  who  are  too  ignorant  and  too  restless  to 
settle  anywhere. 

Love  and  Like  are  now  confused  by  many  speak- 
ers, and  even  by  some  wTiters  of  education  and 
repute.  Love  is  often  used  for  like ; the  latter  not 
so  often  for  the  former.  Both  words  express  a pleas- 
ure in  and  a desire  for  the  object  to  which  they 
are  applied  ; but  love  expresses  this  and  something 
more  — a devotion  to  it,  an  absorption  in  it,  a readi- 
ness for  sacrifice  to  obtain  or  to  serve  the  beloved 
object.  A man  loves  his  children,  his  mother,  his 
wife,  his  mistress,  the  truth,  his  country.  But  some 
men  speak  of  loving  green  peas  or  apple  pie, 
meaning  that  they  have  a liking  for  them.  The  dis- 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


139 


tinction  between  the  two  words  existed  in  the  An- 
glo-Saxon stage  of  our  language,  and  is  one  of  great 
value,  as  it  enables  us  to  discriminate  between  a 
higher  and  lower  preference,  which  differ  in  kind  as^ 
well  as  in  degree.  It  gives  us  an  advantage  ovet 
the  French,  for  instance,  who  are  obliged  to  use  the 
same  word  to  express  their  affection  for  La  France 
and  for  meringues  d la  creme.  We  shall  have 
deteriorated,  as  well  as  our  language,  when  we  no 
longer  distinguish  our  liking  from  our  loving. 

Manufacturer  is  another  one  of  the  big  words 
that  are  now  applied  to  little  things.  The  village 
shoemaker  is  disappearing,  and  shoes  are  made  by 
the  hundred  — not  nearly  so  well  as  he  used  to  make 
them  — by  machinery  in  large  factories,  which  have 
come  to  be  called  manufactories,  although  man- 
ufacture is  making  by  the  hand.  But  although  boots 
are  going  out  of  fashion,  one  does  not  see  a little 
shoe-shop  without  the  sign  Boot  Manufactory,  and 
the  condescending  announcement,  Repairing  done 
with  despatch  — meaning  that  there  shoes  are  made 
and  mended.  It  would  be  well,  on  the  score  of 
comfort  as  well  as  of  taste,  if  there  were  a little  more 
of  the  old  skill  in  the  gentle  craft,  and  a little  less 
magniloquence.  But  all  this  is  a concomitant  of 
''progress,”  and  may  be  borne  with  equanimity 
if  the  boot-manufacturer  and  repairer  is  a worthier 
and  a happier  man  than  the  old  shoemaker  and 
mender. 

Marry. — There  has  been  not  a little  discussion 
as  to  the  use  of  this  word,  chiefly  in  regard  to  pub- 
lic announcements  of  marriage.  The  usual  mode 
of  making  the  announcement  is  Married,  John 


r^O  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

Smith  to  Maiy  Jones.  Some  people  having  been 
dissatisfied  with  this  form,  we  have  seen,  of  late 
years,  in  certain  quarters — Married,  John  Smith 
Mary  Jones  ; and  in  others — John  Smith 
Mary  Jones.  I have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that 
all  of  these  forms  are  incorrect.  We  know,  indeed, 
what  is  meant  any  one  of  them  ; but  the  same  is 
true  of  hundreds  and  thousands  of  erroneous  uses  of 
language.  Properl}^  speaking,  a man  is  not  mar- 
ried to  a woman,  or  married  with  her ; nor  are  a 
man  and  a woman  married  with  each  other.  The 
woman  is  married  to  the  man.  It  is  her  name  that 
is  lost  in  his,  not  his  in  hers  ; she  becomes  a mem- 
ber of  his  family,  not  he  of  hers  ; it  is  her  life  that 
is  merged,  or  supposed  to  be  merged,  in  his,  not  his 
in  hers ; she  follows  his  fortunes,  and  takes  his  sta- 
tion, not  he  hers.  And  thus,  manifestly,  she  has 
been  attached  to  him  by  a legal  bond,  not  he  to  her ; 
except,  indeed,  as  all  attachment  is  necessarily  mu- 
tual. But,  nevertheless,  we  do  not  speak  of  tying 
a ship  to  a boat,  but  a boat  to  a ship.  And  so  long, 
at  least,  as  man  is  the  larger,  the  stronger,  the  more 
individually  important,  as  long  as  woman  generally 
lives  in  her  husband’s  house  and  bears  his  name,  — 
still  more  should  she  not  bear  his  name,  — it  is  the 
woman  who  is  married  to  the  man.  JSfuho  : viro 
(rador : to  be  married  to  a man.  For  it  is  in 
the  woman’s  part  only.”  Lilly's  Grammm'.  — In 
speaking  of  the  ceremony  it  is  proper  to  say  that  he 
married  her  {duxit  in  matrimonio')  ^ and  not  that 
she  married  him,  but  that  she  was  married  to  him  ; 
and  the  proper  form  of  announcement  is  — Married, 
Mary  Jones  to  John  Smith.  The  etj^mology  of  the 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


I4I 

word  agrees  entirely  with  the  conditions  of  the  act 
which  it  expresses.  To  marry  is  to  give,  or  to  be 
given,  to  a husband,  mari. 

Militate  is  rarely  misused,  except  that  any  us^ 
of  it ‘is  misuse,  and  it  belongs  rather  among  words 
which  are  not  words.  It  does  not  appear  in  John- 
son’s Dictionary,  and  it  is  of  comparatively  recent 
introduction.  But  it  must  have  been  creeping  into 
newspaper  use  in  Johnson’s  day,  as  it  occurs  in  the 
following  sentence  of  a passage  quoted  in  the  ” Pall 
Mall  Gazette,”  from  the  "St.  James’s  Chronicle,”  of 
more  than  ninety  years  ago  : — 

“On  Saturday,  the  Exhibition  of  the  Royal  Academy  was 
opened  for  the  first  time,  at  the  great  room  in  Pall  Mall.  We 
are  sorry  to  observe  that  though  this  institution  has  successfully 
militated  against  all  others,  and  nearly  swallowed  them  up,  it 
seems  to  be  on  the  decline.” 

What  could  be  more  absurd  than  the  making  of 
the  Latin  milito  into  an  English  word  to  take  the 
place  of  o^^ose^  contend^  he  at  variance  with^  as, 
for  instance,  in  the  following  extract  from  a report 
of  the  murder  of  a young  lady  in  Virginia  : — 

“It  was  at  first  supposed  that  the  lady  had  been  thrown  from 
her  horse,  and  killed  by  being  dragged  along  the  ground.  Sev- 
eral circumstances,  however,  militate  against  this  supposition.” 

The  absurdity  is  the  greater  because  it  is  usually 
a supposition,  or  a ♦ theory,  or  something  quite  as 
incorporeal,  that  is  militated  against.  The  use  of 
this  word  is,  however,  not  a question  of  right  or 
wrong,  but  one  of  taste.  It  belongs  to  a bad  family, 
of  which  are  necessitate,  ratiocinate.,  effcctnate^  and 
eventuate.,  which,  with  their  substantives,  — neccssi^ 
tation^  ratioefnation.  effectuation.,  and  eventuation 
(which  must  be  received  with  their  parent  verbs),  — • 


142 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


should  not  be  recognized  as  members  of  good  Eng- 
lish society.  It  is  well  in  keeping  for  negro  min- 
strels, in  announcing  their  performances,  to  say, 
”The  felicity  will  eventuate  every  evening.” 

Obnoxious.  — It  were  well  if  this  word  had 
stopped  short  of  its  last  deflected  meaning.  An 
Anglicized  form  of  the  Latin  obnoxius,  its  root  is 
the  vQxhnoceo^  to  harm,  hence  noxius^  harmful,  and 
therefore  obnoxious  means,  liable  or  exposed  to 
harm.  Until  the  close  of  the  last  century  it  was  used 
in  this  sense  only,  as  may  be  seen  by  reference  to 
Richardson’s  Dictionary.  Milton  wrote  in  "Sam- 
son Agonistes  ” " obnoxious  msore  to  all  the  miseries 
of  life,”  and  Dr.  Armstrong,  in  his  "Art  of  Preserv- 
ing Health,”  "to  change  obnoxious.”  But  as  a 
person  who  is  obnoxious  to  punishment  is  supposed 
to  be  blameable,  and  as  we  aflect  that  a blameable 
person  is  an  offensive  one,  it  has  come  to  be  used 
in  the  sense  of  offensive,  particularly  by  those  who 
do  not  know  exactly  what  it  does  mean.  We  do 
not  need  both  offensive  and  obnoxious^  with  but  one 
meaning  between  them  ; but  perhaps  it  is  too  much 
to  hope  that  we  may  retain  both,  and  restore  to 
obnoxious  its  proper  and  useful  signification. 

Observe.  — This  word,  the  primary  meaning  of 
which  is  to  keep  carefully,  and  hence  to  heed,  has 
by  an  orderly  and  consistent  deflection,  come  to 
mean  also  to  keep  in  view, to  follow  with  respect  and 
deference,  e,  "and  let  thine  eyes  observe  my 
ways,”  and  to  fulfil  and  attend  to  with  religious  care, 
as  to  observe  one’s  duties,  to  observe  the  Sabbath. 
But  it  is  frequently  used  as  a mere  synonyme  of  say. 
This  sense  is  not  a derived  or  deflected  sense,  but 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


143 


an  extraneous  one  imposed  upon  the  word  by  loose 
usage.  It  is  reached  by  uniting  to  the  sense  of 
heeding  or  remarking,  that  of  expressing  what  is 
remarked,  and  then  dropping  the  essential  meaning^ 
of  the  word  in  favor  of  that  which  has  been  im- 
posed upon  it.  Used  to  mean  heed,  take  note  of, 
keep  in  view,  follow,  attend  to,  fulfil,  it  does  good 
service.  But  in  the  sense  of  say^  as,  I observed  to 
him  so  and  so,  for,  I said  so  and  so  to  him,  or. 
What  did  you  observe?  for.  What  did  you  say?  it 
might  better  be  left  to  people  who  must  be  very 
elegant  and  exquisite  in  their  speaking. 

Partialey  is  often  used,  and  by  educated  peo- 
ple, for  -partly.  Even  Mr.  Swinburne  says,  in  his 
interesting  but  somewhat  strained  and  overwrought 
book  on  William  Blake,  "If  this  view  of  the  poem 
be  wholly  or  partially  correct.”  But  partially^  the 
adverb  of  partial,,  means  with  unjust  or  unreasona- 
ble bias.  A view  cannot  be  both  correct  and  partial. 
When  anything  is  done  in  part,  it  is  partly,  not 
partially,  done.  Both  words  are  from  one  root ; 
but  to  confuse  the  two  is  to  deprive  us  of  the  use 
of  one. 

Partook.  — Say,  that  you  ate  your  breakfast  or 
your  dinner,  not  that  3^ou  partook  of  some  rolls  and 
butter  and  coffee,  or  of  beef  and  pudding.  Although, 
if  you  are  at  breakfast  when  a friend  comes  in,  you 
ma}’  ask  him,  if  you  like  the  phrase,  to  sit  down 
and  partake  of  it,  i.  e.,  take  a part  of  it,  share  it 
with  you. 

Party,  Article,  Goods. — These  shop  words 
should,  in  their  shop  sense,  be  left  in  the  shop. 
Mr,  Bullions,  in  making  a contract  or  going  into 


144 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


an  operation,”  is  a party  ; but  in  his  house  or  yours 
he  is  a person.  Mrs.  Bullions’s  Sevres  vase,  being 
on  her  cabinet,  is  no  longer  an  elegant  article,  but 
a vase,  more  or  less  beautiful ; and  the  material  of 
her  gown,  having  been  honored  by  her  possession, 
and  shaped  by  her  figure,  is  no  longer  goods.  Mr. 
Sheldon’s  books,  Mr.  Low’s  tea,  Mr.  Stewart’s  silk, 
are  their  goods ; but  we  neither  read  goods,  nor 
drink  goods;  how,  then,  do  we  wear  goods?  Yet 
some  people,  and  even  women  of  some  cultivation, — 
they  who  so  rarely  err  in  language,  — will  speak  of 
the  materials  of  their  garments  as  goods.  Goods 
means  articles  of  personal  property,  regarded  as 
property,  not  as  personal  appendages.  Houses  and 
lands  are  good,  but  not  goods  ; nor  are  ships  ; but 
the  cotton  and  the  corn  in  the  ships  are  goods  : a 
stock  in  trade  is  goods  ; but  a man’s  household  gods 
are  not  his  goods  until  he  puts  them  into  the  market. 
And  so  Mrs.  Bullions,  when  she  is  sold  out,  maj 
rightly  enumerate  her  gown  among  her  goods,  and 
her  Sevres  vase  among  her  " articles  of  bigotry  and 
virtue.” 

Patron. — If  you  are  in  retail  trade,  don’t  call 
your  customers  your  patrons,  and  send  them  circu- 
lars asking  for  a continuance  of  their  patronage ; 
unless  you  mean  to  say  that  they  buy  of  you,  not 
because  they  need  what  you  have  to  sell,  but  merely 
to  give  you  money,  and  that  you  are  a dependant 
upon  their  favor.  There  is  patronage  in  this  coun- 
try, both  within  and  without  the  administration  of 
government ; and  it  does  not  imply  loss  of  inde- 
pendence on  the  one  side  or  arrogance  on  the  other 
but  it  does  not  consist  in  buying  what  one  needs  foj 
one’s  own  comfort  or  pleasure. 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


145 


Pell-mell.  — This  word  or  phrase  implies  a 
crowd  and  confusion  (Fr.  melte)^  and  should 
never  be  applied,  as  it  is  by  some  speakers  and 
some  writers  for  the  press,  to  an  individual ; as,  for^ 
instance,  in  this  sentence  from  a first-rate  newspa- 
per : ” I rushed  pell-mell  out  of  the  theatre.”  The 
writer  might  as  well  have  said  that  he  rushed  out 
promiscuously,  or  that  he  marched  out  by  platoons. 

Persuaded.  — The  use  of  this  participle  in  the 
sense  of  convinced,  cannot,  I think,  be  justly  con- 
demned as  vulgar  or  a solecism.  The  best  usage 
is  too  strongl}^  in  its  favor.  " All  the  people  will 
stone  us,  for  they  be  persuaded  that  John  was  a 
prophet.”  Lttke  xx.  6.  "I  am  persuaded  that  none 
of  these  things  were  hidden  from  him  ; for  this  thing 
was  not  done  in  a corner.”  Acts  xxvi.  26.  "This 
is  the  monkey’s  own  giving  out.  She  is  persuaded 
I will  marry  her  out  of  her  own  love  and  flattery, 
notout  of  my  promise.”  Othello  iv.  i.  Neverthe- 
less its  use  in  this  sense  is  a loss  to  the  language. 
It  deprives  us  of  a word  which  expresses  the  result 
of  influences  gentler  than  those  that  produce  convic- 
tion. A man  is  sometimes  persuaded  to  act  against 
his  conviction.  The  root  of  the  Latin  word  stiadeo, 
from  which  the  verb  persuade  is  derived,  has  in  it 
a suggestion  of  sweetness  {siiavis^  sweet),  hinting 
gentleness  and  allurement.  SiLciviuin  means  a 
sweet  mouth,  and  so,  a kiss.  Women  persuade 
when  they  cannot  convince.  It  would  be  well  if 
this  tender  and  delicate  sense  of  the  word  could  be 
preserved. 

Portion  is  commonly  misused  in  the  sense  of 
fart.  For  instance,  "A  large  portion  of  Broad 
10 


146 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


way  is  impassable  for  carriages,  on  account  of  the 
snow  and  ice.”  A correct  speaker  would  sa}^,  ” A 
large  part  of  Broadway,”  etc.  A portion  is  a part 
set  aside  for  a special  purpose,  or  to  be  considered 
by  itself. 

Predicate. — Should  I express  to  my  own  satis- 
faction the  feeling  which  the  frequent  misuse  of  this 
word  by  people  who  use  it  because  they  do  not  know 
its  meaning,  excites  in  the  bosoms  of  those  who  do 
know,  and  who,  therefore,  use  it  rarely,  I might 
provoke  a smile  from  my  readers,  and  I certainly 
should  smile  at  myself.  If  there  is  one  verbal  of- 
fence which  more  than  any  other  justifies  an  open 
expression  of  contempt,  it  is  when  an  honorable 
gentleman  rises  in  his  place  and  asks  whether  the 
honorable  body  of  which  he  is  a member  ” intends 
to  predicate  any  action  upon  the  statement  of  the 
honorable  gentleman  who  has  just  sat  down  ; ” what 
he  wishes  to  know  being,  if  they  mean  to  do  any- 
thing or  to  take  any  steps  about  it,  or  found  any  action 
upon  it.  And  so  a well-known  member  of  Con- 
gress addessed  a letter  to  the  New  York  "Times” 
in  which  he  said,  "You  predicate  an  editorial  on 
a wrong  report  of  my  speech  in  Brooklyn.”  Yet, 
perhaps,  such  a man  does  not  forfeit  all  the  consid- 
eration due  to  a vertebrate  animal.  Predicate  means 
primarily  to  speak  before,  and,  hence,  to  bear  wit- 
ness, to  affirm,  to  declare.  So  the  Germans  call 
their  clergymen  'predicants^  because  they  bear  wit- 
ness to  and  declare  the  gospel.  But  in  English, 
predicate  is  a technical  word  used  by  grammarians 
to  express  that  element  of  the  sentence  which  affirms 
something  of  the  subject,  or  (as  a noun)  that  which 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


H7 

is  affirmed.  And  thus  action  may  be  predicated  of 
a body  or  an  individual;  but  action  predicated  by  a 
body  nfon  circumstances  or  statements,  is  simple 
absurdity.  Those  persons  for  whom  this  distinction 
is  too  subtle  had  better  confine  themselves  to  plain 
English,  and  ask.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?  — language  good  enough  for  a chief  justice  or 
a prime  minister. 

Present.  — The  use  of  this  word  for  inU'oduce 
is  an  affectation.  Persons  of  a certain  rank  in  Eu- 
rope are  presented  at  court ; and  the  craving  of 
every  item  of  the  sovereign  people  of  this  demo- 
cratic republic  to  be  presented  at  the  Tuileries 
affords  one  of  the  greatest  charms  of  the  life  of 
our  minister  resident  near  that  court,  and  is  the 
chief  solace  of  his  diplomatic  labors.  In  France, 
every  person,  in  being  made  acquainted  with  an- 
other, is  presented,  the  French  language  not  having 
made  the  distinction  which  is  made  in  England  be- 
tween -present  and  introdiiee.  We  present  foreign 
ministers  to  the  President ; we  introduce,  or  should 
introduce,  our  friends  to  each  other.  We  intro- 
duce the  younger  to  the  older,  the  person  of  lower 
position  to  the  person  of  higher,  the  gentleman  to 
the  lady  — not  the  older  to  the  younger  — the  lady 
to  the  gentleman.  Yet  some  ladies  will  speak  of 
being  introduced  to  such  and  such  a gentleman.  Is 
this  a revolutionary  intimation  that  they  set  nothing 
by  the  deference  which  man  in  his  strength  and  mas- 
tery and  sexual  independence  pays  to  their  weak- 
ness, their  charms,  and  their  actual  or  probable 
motherhood? 

Quite  means  completeljs  entirely,  in  a finished 


148 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


manner.  It  is  from  the  French  qiiitte^  discharged, 
and  is  akin  to  qiiits^  the  word  used  by  players  of 
games  to  mean  that  they  are  even  with  each  other. 
Therefore  the  common  phrase,  miscalled  an  Amer- 
icanism, quite  a niimhc}'^  is  unjustihable.  A cup  or 
a theatre  may  be  quite  full ; and  there  may  be  quite 
a pint  in  the  cup,  or  quite  a thousand  people  in  the 
theatre,  and  neither  may  be  quite  full.  But  nnmhcr 
is  indefinite  in  its  signification,  and  therefore  can- 
not be  properly  qualified  by  quite.  Yet  Thomas 
Hughes,  whom  we  all  think  of  as  Tom  Brown, 
in  his  letter  about  the  Oxford  and  Harvard  boat 
race,  spoke  of  "quite  a number  of  young  Ameri- 
cans.” 

Railroad  Depot  is  the  abominable  name  usu- 
ally  given  in  this  country  to  a railway  station.  In 
England  they  generally  say  railway  ; but  some  of 
their  companies  are  styled  Railroad  Companies.  * In 
America  the  compound  most  in  use  is  railroad,,  but 
we  have  the  Erie  Railway  Company,  and  others  of 
like  name.  How  the  difierence  came  about  it  would 
be  difficult  to  discover ; but  railway  is  absolutely 
right,  and  railroad^  at  least,  measurably  wrong. 
A way  is  that  which  guides  or  directs  ,a  course, 
or  that  upon  which  anything  moves  or  is  carried. 
Hence,  we  say  that  a ship,  when  she  is  launched, 
glides  into  the  water  upon  her  ways.  The  ways 
upon  which  a ship  is  launched  are  veiy  like  those 
which  guide  railway  carriages,  and  which  at  first 
were  called  tramways.  A road  is  the  ground  rid- 
den over,  the  land  appropriated  to  travel,  and  used 
as  a means  of  communication  between  place  and 
place.  A XiiAway  is  laid  u^on  a road^  and  the  road 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


149 


is  always  somewhat,  and  generally  very  much,  wider 
than  the  way.  But  the  calling  a way,  a road,  is  a 
venial  otTence  compared  to  that  of  calling  a station 
a depot.  Every  depot  is  a station,  although  not  in 
all  cases  a passenger  or  even  a freight  station ; but 
very  few  stations  are  depots.  A depot  is  a place 
where  stores  and  materials  are  deposited  for  safe 
keeping.  A little  lonely  shanty,  which  looks  like 
a lodge  outside  a garden  of  cucumbers,  a staging 
of  a few  planks  upon  which  two  or  three  people 
stand  like  criminals  on  the  scaffold  — to  call  such 
places  depots  is  the  height  of  pretentious  absurd- 
ity. But  it  is  not  less  incorrect  to  give  the  same 
name  to  the  most  imposing  building  which  is  used 
merely  as  a stopping  place  for  trains  and  pas- 
sengers. Station  means  merely  a standing,  as  in 
the  well-known  passage  in  Hamlet,  — 

“A  station  like  the  herald  Mercury 
New-lighted  on  a heaven-kissing  hill,” — 

and  a railway  station  is  a railway  standing  — a place 
where  trains  and  passengers  stand  for  each  other. 
There  is  no  justification  whatever  for  calling  such  a 
place  a depot.  And  to  aggravate  the  offence  of  so 
doing  as  much  as  possible,  the  word  is  pronounced 
in  a manner  which  is  of  itself  an  affront  to  com- 
mon sense  and  good  taste  — that  is,  neither  day^ 
poh^  as  it  should  be  if  it  is  used  as  a French  word, 
nor  dcc-pott^  as  it  should  be  if  it  has  been  adopted 
as  an  English  word.  With  an  affectation  of  French 
pronunciation  as  becoming  as  a French  bonnet  or 
French  manners  to  some  of  those  who  wear  them, 
it  is  called  dee-poh^  the  result  being  a hybrid  Eng 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


150 

lish-French  monster,  which,  with  the  phrase  oi 
which  it  forms  a part,  should  be  put  out  of  existence 
with  all  convenient  despatch. 

Real  Estate  is  a compound  that  has  no  propei 
place  in  the  language  of  every-day  life,  where  it  is 
merely  a pretentious  intruder  from  the  technical 
province  of  law.  Law  makes  the  distinction  of  real 
and  personal  estate ; but  a man  does  not,  therefore, 
talk  of  drawing  some  personal  estate  from  the  bank, 
or  going  to  Tiffany’s  to  buy  some  personal  estate  for 
his  wife ; nor,  when  he  has  an  interest  in  the  na- 
tional debt,  does  he  ask  how  personal  estate  is  sell- 
ing. He  draws  money,  buys  jewels,  asks  the  price 
of  bonds.  Real  estate^  as  ordinarily  used,  is  a mere 
big-sounding,  vulgar  phrase  for  houses  and  land, 
and,  so  used,  is  a marked  and  unjustifiable  Ameri- 
canism. Our  papers  have  columns  headed  in  large 
letters,  “Real  Estate  Transactions,”  the  heading 
of  which  should  be  Sales  of  Land. 

Recollect  is  used  by  many  persons  wrongly  for 
re7nemher.  When  we  do  not  remember  what  we 
wish  to  speak  of,  we  try  to  re-collect  it.  Misrcc- 
ollect  appeared  in  a leading  article  in  the  "Tribune” 
not  long  ago  — a word  hardly  on  a par  with  Biddy’s 
disrememher . We  either  can  or  cannot  recollect 
what  we  do  not  at  once  remember.  We  cannot 
recollect  amiss,  unless  it  be  that  we  recollect  the 
facts,  but  not  in  their  proper  order. 

Religion  is  constantly  used  as  if  it  were  a 
synonyme  of  ficty,  to  the  obliteration  of  a very 
important  distinction  in  ethics,  and  the  consequent 
misleading  of  many  minds.  R.eligion  is  a bond, 
according  to  which  all  who  acknowledge  it  assume 
the  performance  of  certain  duties  and  rites  having 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


relation  to  a supreme  being,  or  to  a future  state  of 
existence,  or  to  both.  Piety  is  that  motive  of  human 
action  which  has  its  spring  in  the  desire  to  do  good, 
in  the  reverence  for  what  is  good,  and  in  the  spon-. 
taneous  respect  for  the  claims  of  kindred  or  grati- 
tude. There  are  many  religions  : there  is  but  one 
piety.  Judaism  is  a religion  ; Mohammedanism  is  a 
religion  ; Christianity  has  become  a religion,  Avith- 
in  which  are  three  religions,  the  Roman,  the  Greek, 
and  the  Protestant.  And  as  to  which  of  all  these  is 
the  true  religion,  very  different  views  are  honestly 
held  by  Jews,  Mohammedans,  Roman  Catholics, 
and  Protestants,  all  of  whom  may  be  pious  with  the 
same  piety.  Socrates  inculcated  piety  ; but  when, 
on  his  death-bed,  with  his  last  breath,  he  reminded 
his  friend  to  sacrifice  a cock  to -^sculapius,  he  con- 
formed to  the  rites  of  a religion  for  attempting  to  un- 
dermine which  he  was  put  to  death.  When  Christ 
kept  the  Passover,  he  conformed  to  a right  of 
Judaism  into  Avhich  he  had  been  born  and  in  which 
he  had  been  bred.  But  he  was  put  to  death  by  the 
priests  and  the  Pharisees  chiefly  because  he  taught 
the  needlessness  of  that  very  religion.  The  Ser- 
mon in  the  Mount  teaches  not  religion,  but  piety. 

Remit. — Why  should  this  Avord  be  thrust  contin- 
ually into  the  place  of  scud?  In  its  proper  sense,  to 
send  back,  and  hence  to  relax,  to  relinquish,  to  sur- 
render, to  forgive,  it  is  a useful  and  respectable 
word  ; but  Avhy  one  man  should  say  to  another,  I will 
remit  3^011  the  mone}^  instead  of,  I Avill  send  }"Ou  the 
mone}^  it  Avbuld  be  difficult  to  sa}^  did  Ave  not  so 
frequently  see  the  propensity  of  people  to  use  a big 
M"ord  of  Avhich  they  do  not  knoAV  the  meaning  ex- 
actly, in  preference  to  a small  one  that  they  have 


152 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


understood  from  childhood.  This  leads  people, 
in  the  present  instance,  to  speak  even  of  sending 
remittances;  than  which  it  would  be  hard  to  find  an 
absurder  phrase.  But  it  sounds,  they  think,  much 
finer  to  say.  My  correspondents  have  not  sent  the 
remittances  I expected,  instead  of.  My  friends  have 
not  sent  me  the  money  I looked  for.  • 

Restive  means  standing  stubbornly  still,  not 
frisky,  as  some  people  seem  to  think  it  does.  A 
restive  horse  is  a horse  that  balks ; but  horses  that 
are  restless  are  frequently  called  restive.  Restive- 
ness, however,  is  one  sign  of  rebellion  in  horses. 
Thus  Dryden  (quoted  by  Johnson)  ; — 

“The  pampered  colt  will  discipline  disdain, 

Impatient  of  the  lash,  and  restiff  to  the  rein.” 

Hence  a misapprehension,  by  which  those  who  did 
not  understand  the  word,  were  led  to  a complete 
reversion  of  meaning. 

Reverend  and  Honorable. — The  editor  of  a 
western  newspaper  has  asked  me  the  following 
question:  "In  speaking  of  a clergyman — not  a 
Catholic  or  an  Episcopalian  — is  it  proper  to  say 
the  Rev.  John  Jones,  for  instance,  or,  simply.  Rev. 
John  Jones?  If  it  is  proper  to  say  the  Rev.  John 
Jones,  why  is  it  not  proper  to  say  the  Captain  Tom 
Robinson,  or  the  General  Robert  Smith?” 

The  article  is  absolutely  required.  The  sect  to 
which  the  clergyman  belongs  does  not  affect  the  ques- 
tion. Reverend  and  Captain  or  General 

there  is  no  analogy.  The  latter  are  names  of  ofiices  ; 
they  are  titles  pertaining  of  riglit  to  the  persons  who 
hold  those  offices.  Reverend  is  not  the  name  of  an 
office,  nor  is  it  a title,  and  it  belongs  to  no  one  of 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


153 


right.  Clerg3^men  are  styled  Reverend  by  a cour- 
tesy which  supposes  that  every  man  set  apart  foi 
his  special  sanctity  and  wisdom  as  an  example,  a 
guide,  and  an  instructor,  is  worthy  of  reverence.^ 
So  members  of  Congress  are  styled  Honorable,  but 
by  mere  courtesy.  But  in  Congress  does  a member 
ever  rise  and  say,  ” I heartily  agree  with  the  views 

which  honorable  gentleman  from has  just  laid 

before  the  House.  Honorable  gentleman  could  not 
have  presented  them  with  greater  force  or  clear- 
ness” ? The  most  unlettered  and  careless  speaker 
in  the  House  of  Representatives  would  say  the 
honorable  gentleman.  Honorable  and  Reverend 
are  not  even  courtesy  titles ; they  are  adjectives, 
mere  epithets  applied  at  first  (the  one  to  men  of 
importance,  and  the  other  to  clergymen)  with 
special  meaning,  but  afterward  from  custom  only. 
The  impropriety  of  omitting  the  article  can  be 
clearly  shown  by  a transposition  of  the  epithet  and 
the  name,  which  does  not  affect  the  sense.  For 
instance,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  the  Reverend; 
Charles  Sumner,  the  Honorable ; not  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  Reverend ; Charles  Sumner,  Honorable. 
But  the  transposition  which  has  this  effect  in  the 
case  of  epithets  has  none  in  that  of  official  titles ; 
thus  : Winfield  Hancock,  Major-General,  Samuel 
Nelson,  Judge,  which,  indeed,  are  very  common 
modes  of  writing  such  names  and  titles.  The  omis- 

O 

sion  of  the  article  has  been  the  cause  of  a misappre- 
hension on  the  part  of  man}"  persons  as  to  the  name 
of  the  ecclesiastical  historian  to  whom  we  owe  so 
much  of  our  knowledge  of  our  Ancrlo-Saxon  fore- 
fathers  in  England.  He  was  styled  by  his  succes- 


154  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

sors  the  Venerable  Bede;  but  this  having  been 
written  in  Latin  Vcnerahilis  Bcda^  he  has  often 
been  mentioned  by  British  writers  as  Venerable 
Bede,  which  some  readers  have  taken,  as  a whole, 
for  his  name.  (I  have  more  than  once  heard  the 
question  mooted  among  intelligent  people.)  He 
was  merely  called  Bede,  the  venerable ; but  the 
Latin  has  no  article  ; and  hence  the  mistake  of  call- 
ing him  Venerable  Bede.  We  ma}^  correctly  speak 
of  a distinguished  prelate  who  recently  died  as 
Bishop  Hopkins,  as  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop 
Hopkins,  or  as  the  Right  Reverend  John  Henry 
Hopkins,  Bishop  (not  the  Bishop)  of  Vermont. 
But  if  we  speak  of  the  officer  without  mention  of 
the  individual,  even  although  we  give  the  courtesy 
epithet,  we  should  use  the  article  before  the  title, 
as,  the  Right  Reverend  the  Bishop  of  Vermont; 
and  so,  in  speaking  of  a military  officer  by  name, 
the  article  is  not  admissible ; but  if  we  speak  of  the 
officer  without  mentioning  the  name,  the  article  is 
required  : thus,  Major-General  Meade,  Command- 
ing-in-Chief,  but,  the  Major-General  Commanding- 
in-Chief. 

Sample  Room.  — This  confluent  eruption  has 
appeared  on  sign-boards  all  over  New  York  during 
the  last  few  years.  Thus  used,  it  means,  not  a 
room  in  which  samples  are  displayed,  but  simply  a 
place  at  which  spirits  and  beer  may  be  drunk  at 
a bar,  and  is  the  fruit  of  a nauseous  attempt  to 
sweeten  bar-room,  alc-Jioitsc,  and  tavern.  Its  his- 
tory is  a very  disgusting  one.  It  first  appeared  in 
small,  shame-faced  letters  over  the  doors  of  par- 
titions put  up  across  the  back  part  of  certain  so- 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


IS5 

called  wholesale  wine  and  liquor  stores  ; and  it  told 
of  men  sponging  up  liquor  by  samples  until  it 
became  necessary  to  say  that  if  they  ” sampled  ” 
they  must  pay ; and  then  of  the  self-styled  whole- 
sale wine  merchant,  who  was  above  keeping  a 
bar,  finding  that  it  was  profitable  as  well  as  gen- 
tlemanly to  ask  acquaintances  to  " sample  ” his 
liquors ; and  of  this  sham’s  being  kept  up  until  it 
became  necessary  to  hide  the  multitudinous  ” samp- 
lers” and  the  multifarious  "sampling”  from  the 
public  and  the  police  by  a screen  or  partition ; and, 
finally,  of  the  spread  of  this  " gentlemanly  ” way  of 
keeping  a tippling  house ; so  that  the  very  sight  of 
the  word  is  enough  to  make  one’s  gorge  rise.  Very 
worthy  and  well-behaved,  and  even  intelligent,  men 
do  keep  bars  and  taverns ; but  if  they  do,  let  them 
say  so.  When  I see  samfle-7'oom  over  a door,  I feel 
a respect  for  a bar-room,  and  as  if  I could  take  to  my 
heart  a man  who  owns  that  he  keeps  a grog-shop. 

Section.  — An  unpleasant  Americanism  for 
neighborhood,  vicinity,  quarter,  region  ; as,  for  in- 
stance, our  section,  this  section  of  country.  It  is 
western,  of  course,  but  has  crept  eastward  against 
the  tide.  It  is  the  result  of  the  division  of  the  un- 
occupied lands  at  the  West,  for  purposes  of  sale, 
into  sections  based  upon  parallels  of  latitude  and 
longitude.  Emigrant  parties  would  buy  and  settle 
upon  a quarter-section  of  land ; and  they  continued 
talking  about  their  section  even  after  they  had 
homes,  ^ind  neighborhoods,  towns,  villages,  and 
counties ; a fashion  which,  even  with  them,  should 
have  had  its  day,  and  in  which  they  should  not  be 
imitated. 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


156 

Sit  (one  of  the  verbs  a confusion  in  the  use  ol 
parts  of  which  has  previously  been  remarked  upon) 
is  confounded  with  another  word,  sct^  as  most  of  my 
readers  well  know.  The  commoner  mistakes  upon 
tills  point  I pass  by ; but  some  prevail  among  peo- 
ple who  fancy  that  they  are  very  exquisite  in  their 
speaking.  Most  of  us  have  heard  and  laughed  at 
the  story  of  the  judge  who,  when  counsel  spoke  of 
the  setting  of  the  court,  took  him  up  with,  "No, 
brother,  the  court  sits  ; hens  set.”  But  I fear  that 
some  of  us  have  laughed  in  the  wrong  place.  Hens 
do  not  set ; they  sit,  as  the  court  does,  and  frequently 
to  better  purpose.  No  phrase  is  more  common  than 
" a setting  hen,”  and  none  more  incorrect.  A hen 
sits  to  hatch  her  eggs,  and,  therefore,  is  a sitting 
hen.  Sit  is  an  active,  but  an  intransitive  verb  — 
a very  intransitive  verb  — for  it  means  to  put  one’s 
self  in  a position  of  rest.  Set  is  an  active,  transi- 
tive verb  — very  active  and  very  transitive  — for  it 
means  to  cause  another  person  or  thing  to  sit,  willy- 
nilly.  A schoolma’am  will  illustrate  the  intransitive 
verb  by  sitting  down  quietly,  and  then  the  transitive 
^ pupil  a setting  down  which  is  anything 
but  quiet.  This  setting  down  is  metaphorical,  and 
is  borrow^ed  from  the  real,  physical  setting-dowm 
W'hich  children  sometimes  have,  much  to  their  as- 
tonishment. The  principal  parts  of  one  of  these 
verbs  are  5//,  sat^  sitten  ; but  of  the  other,  the  pres- 
ent, preterite,  and  the  past  participle  are  in  form  the 
same,  set.  Many  persons  forget  this,  and  use  sat 
as  the  preterite  of  set,  thus  : She  sat  her  pitcher 
dowm  upon  the  ground.  But  as  we  read  in  our 
translation  of  Matthew’s  Gospel  (chap,  xxi.),  it  was 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


157 


prophesied  that  Christ  should  come  " sitting  upon 
an  ass,”  and,  therefore,  his  disciples  took  a colt  and 
"they  set  him  thereon.”  On  the  other  hand,  some 
persons  use  the  preterite  of  set  for  that  of  5//,  e. 

I went  in  and  set  down  ; while  others  have  invented 
one  labor-saving  monosyllable  for  both  these  hard- 
worked  verbs.  For  instance,  "I  went  to  meet  him 
at  his  office,  sharp  on  time,  and  sot  (sat)  down  and 
waited  for  him,  and  sot,  and  sot,  and  sot ; and  when 
he  came  in,  he  sot  (set)  me  down  that  his  time  was 
right,  because  he’d  sot  (set)  his  watch  that  morning 
by  the  City  Hall  clock.”  I have  heard  the  word 
thus  used  by  an  estimable  and  not  unintelligent  mer- 
chant. As  far  as  the  poultry-yard  is  concerned,  the 
hen-wife  sets  the  hen,  but  the  hen  sits.  The  use  of 
the  former  word  for  the  latter  in  this  case  is  so  com- 
mon, and  I have  heard  it  defended  so  stoutly  by 
intelligent  people,  that  I shall  not  only  refer  to 
the  dictionaries  those  of  my  readers  who  care  to 
consult  them,  but  cite  the  following  examples  in 
point : — 

As  the  partridge  sittetJi  on  eggs  and  hatcheth  them  not,  etc. 

Jeremiah^  xvii.  ii.  Tr.  i6ii. 
And  birds  sit  brooding  in  the  snow. 

Loves  Labor's  Lost,  iv.  3. 

Thou  from  the  first 

Wast  present,  and  with  mighty  wings  outspread, 
Dove-like  sat'st  brooding  on  the  vast  abyss, 

And  mad’st  it  pregnant. 

Paradise  Lost,  I.  21. 

When  the  nominative  in  a sentence  requiring  sit 
or  set  is  the  subject  of  the  action,  the  word  is  set ; 
when  the  nominative  is  not  the  subject,  the  word 
IS  sit ; — a rule  which,  like  most  of  its  kind,  is  su- 


158  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

perfluous  to  those  who  can  understand  it,  and  use- 
less to  those  who  cannot. 

Sil  and  sel,  unlike  lie  and  lay,  which  have  the 
same  relations  with  each  other  as  the  former  have, 
and  are  subject  to  a like  confusion,  have  no  tenses 
or  participles  which  are  the  same  in  form. 

There  is  one  peculiarity  in  the  use  of  the  two  for- 
mer which  is  worthy  of  attention.  We  say  that  a 
man  rises  and  sits ; but  that  the  sun  rises  and  sets. 
For  this  use  of  sei,  which  has  prevailed  since  Eng- 
lish was  a language,  and  from  which  it  would 
require  an  unprecedented  boldness  to  deviate,  there 
is  no  good  reason.  It  is  quite  indefensible.  Sels 
is  no  part  of  the  verb  sii  ; and  as  to  setting,  the  sun 
sets  nothing.  For  we  do  not  mean  to  say  that  he 
sets  himself  down  — an  expression  which  would  not 
at  all  convey  our  apprehension  of  the  gradual  de- 
scent and  disappearance  of  the  great  light  of  the 
world.  If  either  of  these  words  be  used,  we  should, 
according  to  reason  and  their  meaning,  say  the  sun 
sits,  the  sun  is  sitting. 

I had  supposed  that  this  application  of  the  verb 
set  to  the  sinking  of  the  sun  was  inexplicable  as 
well  as  unjustifiable,  when  it  occurred  to-  me  that  in 
the  phrase  in  question  set  might  be  a corruption  of 
settle.  On  looking  into  the  matter,  I found  reason 
for  believing  that  my  conjecture  had  hit  the  mark. 
In  tracing  this  corruption,  it  should  be  first  observed 
that  the  Anglo-Saxon  has  both  the  verb  sittan  (sit) 
and  settan  (set).  In  coming  to  us,  these  words 
nave  not  changed  their  signification  in  the  least; 
they  have  only  lost  a termination.  Indeed,  it  is  only 
the  absence  or  the  presence  of  this  termination  that 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


159 


makes  them  in  the  one  case  English,  and  in  the 
other  Anglo-Saxon.  They  have  been  used  straight 
on,  with  the  same  signification  by  the  same  race  for 
at  least  fifteen  hundred  years.  But  when  that  race 
spoke  Anglo-Saxon,  they  said,  neither  the  sun  sets 
nor  the  sun  sits,  but  the  sun  settles,  and  sometimes 
the  sun  sinks  ; and  his  descent  they  called  not  sun- 
set or  the  sun  setting,  but  the  sun  settling.  Thus 
the  passage  in  Mark’s  Gospel,  i.  32,  which  is 
given  thus  in  our  Bible,  "And  at  even,  when  the 
sun  did  set,  they  brought  him  all  that  were  dis- 
eased,” etc.,  appears  thus  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  ver- 
sion, "Sofilice  Sa  hit  was  oefen  geworden  Sa  sunne 
to  setle  eode.”  That  is.  Verily  when  it  was  even- 
ing made  when  the  sun  to  settle  went.  In  Luke’s 
account  of  the  same  matter  our  version  has  " Now 
when  the  sun  was  setting;  but  the  Anglo-Saxon 
"Sof)lice  sa  sunne  asak”  — Verily  when  the  sun 
sank  down.  And  the  Maeso-Gothic  version  has 
"Mippanei  pan  sagq  sunno”  — when  the  sun  sagg- 
ed, or  sank  down.  In  Genesis,  xv.  17,  "And  it 
came  to  pass  when  the  sun  went  down,”  we  have 
again  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  version  "pa  pa  sunne 
eode  to  5^//^  ” — when  the  sun  went  to  settle;  and 
in  Deuteronomy,  xi.  30,  " by  the  way  where  the  sun 
goeth  down,”  is  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  Bible  "be  pam 
wege  pe  lis  to  sunnen  setlgange^^  — by  the  way 
that  lieth  to  the  sun  settle-going,  or  settling ; and 
in  Psalms,  cxiii.  3,  "From  the  rising  of  the  sun 
unto  the  going  down  of  the  same  ” in  Anglo-Saxon 
"From  sunnan  uprine  oS  to  setlgange ” — From  sun’s 
uprising  even  to  settle-going.  The  word  sett  in  all 
these  passages,  is  not  a verb,  but  a noun ; and  the 


l6o  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

exact  meaning  in  each  case  is  that  the  sun  was  go- 
ing seat-ward  — toward  his  seat.  All  the  stronger, 
therefore,  is  the  conclusion  that  it  is  right  to  say 
that  the  sun  sits  or  takes  his  seat,  and  wrong  to 
sa}^  that  he  sets:  the  clear  distinction  between  the 
two  Anglo-Saxon  verbs  sittan^  to  sit,  to  go  down, 
and  settan^  to  place  in  a seat,  to  fix,  being  remem- 
bered. 

This  conclusion  receives  yet  other  support  from 
the  facts  that,  according  to  Herbert  Coleridge’s 
Glossary,  siinrising  appears  in  the  English  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  but  sunset  is  not  found,  and 
that  in  the  passages  above  cited,  and  others  in  which 
the  same  fact  is  mentioned,  the  earlier  English 
versions  of  the  Bible  do  not  use  set.  Wycliffe’s, 
made  about  A.  D.  1385,  Tyndale’s,  A.  D.  1536, 
Coverdale’s,  A.  D.  1535,  and  the  Geneva  version 
A.  D,  1557,  have  either  “ when  the  sun  went  down,” 
or  “ when  the  sun  was  down.”  It  is  not  until  Ave 
reach  the  Rheim’s  version,  A.  D.  1582,  that  we  find 
“ in  the  evening,  after  sunset.”  But  in  Thomas 
Wilson’s  “Arte  of  Rhetorike,”  A.  D.  1567  (first 
published  in  1553),  I find  “ All  men  commonly  more 
rejoice  in  the  sonne  rising  then  thei  do  in'  the  sonne 
setting  ” (fob  35,  b.).  It  would  therefore  seem  as 
'.f  the  corruotion  of  setle  into  set  had  been  handed 
doAvn  through  common  speech,  and  perhaps  by  vul- 
gar Avriters,  from  the  time  when  our  language 
passed  from  its  Anglo-Saxon  to  its  so-called  early 
English  period,  but  that  sitnset  was  not  used  by 
scholars  until  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

I offer,  not  dogmatically,  but  yet  with  a great 
degree  of  confidence,  this  explanation  of  our  singu- 


MISUSED  WORDS.  l6l 

lar  use  of  the  verb  set  to  express  the  descent  of  the 
sun  to  the  horizon  ; warning  my  readers  at  the  same 
time  that  the  definitions  of  set  in  dictionaries,  as 
meaning  to  go  down,  to  decline,  to  finish  a course, 
all  rest  upon  the  presence,  or  rather  the  supposed 
presence,  of  this  word  in  the  old  and  common 
phrase  sunset^  which  is  really  an  abbreviation  of 
sun-settlings  the  modern  form  of  sunnan-setigang. 
Sociable,  Social.  — We  are  in  danger  of  losing 
a fine  and  valuable  distinction  between  these  words. 
This  is  to  be  deplored,  and,  if  possible,  prevented. 
The  desynonymizing  tendency  of  language  enriches 
it  by  producing  words  adapted  to  the  expression 
of  various  delicate  shades  of  meaning.  But  the 
promiscuous  use  of  two  words  each  of  which  has  a 
meaning  peculiar  to  itself,  by  confounding  distinc- 
tions impoverishes  language,  and  deprives  it  at  once 
of  range  and  of  power.  The  meaning  of  soeiable 
is,  fitted  for  society,  ready  for  companionship,  quick 
to  unite  with  others  — generally  for  pleasure.  So- 
cial expresses  the  relations  of  men  in  society,  com- 
munities, or  commonwealths.  Hence,  social  sci- 
ence. But  there  is  no  sociable  science,  although 
some  French  women  are  said  to  make  societe  an 
art.  A man  who  is  an  authority  upon  social  mat- 
ters may  be  a very  unsociable  person.  Those  who 
are  inclined  to  like  that  strange  kind  of  entertain- 
ment called  a social  surprise,  the  charm  of  which  is 
in  the  going  in  large  bodies  to  a friend’s  house 
unannounced  and  unexpected,  should  at  least  call 
their  performance  a sociable  surprise ; for  it  must 
be  the  crucial  test  of  the  sociability  of  him  to  whom 
it  is  administered.  It  may  possibly  tend  to  a pleas- 
II 


i62 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


ant  sociability  among  those  whose  taste  it  suits;  but 
its  social  tendency  is  quite  another  matter. 

Special  is  a much  overworked  word,  it  being 
loosely  used  to  mean  great  in  degree,  also  peculiar 
in  kind,  for  the  particular  as  opposed  to  the  gem 
eral,  and  for  the  specific  as  opposed  to  the  generic. 
Sometimes  it  seems  to  express  a union  or  resultant 
of  all  these  senses.  This  loose  and  comprehensive 
employment  of  the  word  is  very  old,  at  least  six 
hundred  years ; and  yet  it  cannot  but  be  regarded 
as  a reproach  to  the  language.  But  to  point  out  the 
fault  is  easier  than  to  suggest  a remedy,  other  than 
the  dropping  of  the  first  and  third  uses,  in  which 
it  is  at  least  superfluous. 

Splendid  suffers  from  indiscriminate  use,  as 
awful  does,  but  chiefly  on  the  part  of  those  whom 
our  grandfathers  were  wont  to  call,  in  collective 
compliment,  the  fair.  A man  will  call  some  radiant 
beauty  a splendid  woman  ; but  a man  of  any  culture 
will  rarely  mar  the  well-deserved  compliment  of 
such  an  epithet  by  applying  it  to  any  inferior  excel- 
lence. But  with  most  women  nowadays  everything 
that  is  satisfactory  is  splendid.  A very  charming 
one,  to  whose  self  the  word  might  have’  been  well 
applied,  regarded  a friend  of  mine  with  that  look  of 
personal  injury  with  which  women  meet  minor  dis- 
appointments from  the  stronger  sex,  because  he  did 
not  agree,  avec  effusion^  that  a hideous  little  dog 
lying  in  her  lap  was  " perfectly  splendid  ; ” and  once 
a bright,  intelligent  being  in  muslin  at  my  side  pred- 
icated perfect  splendor  of  a slice  of  roast  beef  which 
was  rapidly  disappearing  before  her,  any  dazzling 
qualities  of  which  seemed  to  me  to  be  due  to  her  own 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


163 

sharp  appetite.  The  sun  is  splendid,  a tiara  ofdia- 
inonds  may  be  splendid,  poetry  may  be  metaphori- 
cally splendid.  But  all  good  poetry  is  not  splendid  ; 
for  instance,  Gray’s  "Elegy.”  The  use  of  splendid 
to  express  very  great  excellence  is  coarse. 

State  is  much  misused  in  the  sense  of  say. 
State ^ from  status^  perfect  participle  of  the  Latin 
verb  meaning  to  stand,  means  to  set  forth  the  con- 
dition under  which  a person,  or  a thing,  or  a cause, 
stands.  A bankrupt  is  called  upon  to  state  his  con- 
dition, to  make  a statement  of  his  affairs.  But  if  a 
man  merely  says  a thing,  do  let  us  say  merely  that 
he  says  it. 

Storm  is  misused  by  many  people,  who  say  that 
it  is  storming  when  they  mean  merely  that  it  is 
raining.  A storm  is  a tumult,  a commotion  of  the 
elements ; but  rain  may  fall  as  gently  as  mercy. 
There  are  dry  storms.  Women  sometimes  storm 
in  this  way  ; with  little  effect,  however,  except  upon 
very  weak  brethren.  But  the  gentle  rain  from  a 
fair  woman’s  eyes,  few  human  creatures,  not  of  her 
own  sex,  can  resist.  A dry  storm  not  unfrequently 
passes  off  in  rain.  Hence,  perhaps,  the  confusion 
of  the  two  words. 

Tea  is  no  less  or  more  than  tea ; and  while  we 
call  strong  broth  beef-tea,  or  a decoction  of  cam- 
omile flowers  camomile  tea,  we  cannot  consistently 
laugh  at  Biddy  when  she  asks  whether  we  will  have 
lay  tay  hr  coffee  tay. 

Transpire.  — Of  all  misused  words,  this  verb  is 
probably  the  most  perverted  It  is  now  very  com- 
monl}^  used  for  the  expression  of  a mode  of  action 
with  which  it  has  no  relations  whatever.  Words 


164  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

may  wander,  by  courses  more  or  less  tortuous,  so 
far  from  their  original  meaning  as  to  make  it  almost 
impossible  to  follow  their  traces.  An  instance  of 
this,  well  known  to  students  of  language,  is  the 
word  huxo?n,  which  is  simply  bow-some  or  bough- 
some,  i,  e.^  that  which  readily  bows  or  yields,  like 
the  boughs  of  a tree.  No  longer  ago  than  when 
Milton  wrote,  boughsome^  which,  as  in  English 
began  to  lose  its  guttural  sound,  — that  of  the  letter 
chi  in  Greek,  — came  to  be  written  buxom^  meant 
simply  yielding,  and  was  of  general  application. 

“ and,  this  once  known,  shall  soon  return, 

And  bring  ye  to  the  place  where  thou  and  Death 

Shall  dwell  at  ease,  and  up  and  down  unseen 

Wing  silently  the  buxom  air.”  — Paradise  Lost^  II.  S40. 

But  aided,  doubtless,  as  Dr.  Johnson  suggests, 
by  a too  liberal  construction  of  the  bride’s  promise  in 
the  old  English  marriage  ceremony,  to  be  "obedi- 
ent and  buxom  in  bed  and  board,”  it  came  to  be  ap- 
plied to  women  who  were  erroneously  thought  likely 
to  be  thus  yielding  ; and  hence  it  now  means  plump, 
rosy,  alluring,  and  is  applied  only  to  women  who 
combine  those  qualities  of  figure,  face,  and  expres- 
sion. Trans^ire^  however,  has  passed  through  no 
such  gradual  modification  of  meaning.  It  has  not 
been  modified,  but  forced.  Its  common  abuse  is 
due  solely  to  the  blunder  of  persons  who  used  it 
although  they  were  ignorant  of  its  meaning,  at  which 
they  guessed.  Transfire  means  to  breathe  through, 
and  so  to  pass  off  insensibly.  The  identical  word 
exists  in  French,  in  which  language  it  is  the  equiva- 
lent of  ouY  f ers f ire ^ which  also  means  to  breathe 
through,  and  so  to  pass  off  insensibly.  The  French- 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


i6s 

man  says,  y'az  beaucouf  transpire  — I have  much 
perspired.  In  fact,  transpire  and  -pers^b'e  are 
etymologically  as  nearly  perfect  synonymes  as  the 
nature  of  language  permits ; the  latter,  however, 
has,  by  common  consent,  been  set  apart  in  English 
to  express  the  passage  of  a watery  secretion  through 
the  skin,  while  the  former  is  properly  used  only  in 
a figurative  sense  to  express  the  passage  of  knowl- 
edge from  a limited  circle  to  publicity.  Here  follow 
examples  of  the  proper,  and  the  only  proper  or 
tolerable  use  of  this  word.  The  first,  which  is 
very  characteristic  and  interesting,  is  from  How- 
ell’s Letters  : — 

“ It  is  a true  observation  that  among  other  effects  of  affliction, 
one  is  to  try  a friend ; for  those  proofs  that  were  made  in  the 
shining,  dazzling  sunshine  are  not  so  clear  as  those  which 
break  out  and  transpire  through  the  dark  clouds  of  adversity.”  — 
I.  6,  55- 

The  next  three,  because  I have  had  such  frequent 
occasion  to  censure  severely  the  general  use  of 
words  in  newspapers,  I have  pleasure  in  saying,  are 
from  the  columns  of  New  York  journals  : — 

“ Who  the  writer  of  this  pamphlet  was,  who,  four  years  before 
the  great  uprising  in  1848,  saw  so  clearly,  and  spoke  so  pointed- 
ly, has,  to  our  knowledge,  never  transpired.” 

“ After  twelve  o’clock  last  night  it  transpired  that  the  Massa- 
chusetts delegation  had  voted  unanimously  in  caucus  to  present 
the  name  of  General  Butler  for  Vice-President.” 

“It  transpired  Monday  that  the  ‘ Boston  Daily  Advertiser  ’ has 
tieen  recently  sold  to  a new  company  for  something  less  than  two 
hundrej?  and  fifty  thousand  dollars.” 

The  following  very  marked  and  instructive  ex- 
ample of  the  correct  use  of  transfire  is  — marvellous 
to  relate  — from  one  of  Ihe  telegrams  of  the  Associ* 
ated  Press : — 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


1 66 


“ At  a quarter  past  four  o’clock  Judge  Fisher  received  a com- 
munication from  the  jury,  and  he  sent  a written  reply.  The 
subject  of  the  correspondence  has  not  transpired.” 

The  next  is  from  the  London  "Times  : ” — 

“The  Liberals  of  Nottingham,  England,  have  selected  Lord 
Amberley  and  Mr.  Handel  Cossham  as  their  candidates.  It  has 
not  yet  transpired  who  the  conservative  candidate  will  be.  The 
election,  the  first  after  the  vote  on  the  Reform  bill,  will  be  ot 
great  importance.” 

But  the  same  number  of  the  same  paper  furnishes, 
in  the  report  of  a speech  by  a member  of  Parlia- 
ment (I  neglected  to  note  by  whom),  the  following 
example  of  the  misuse  of  the  word  in  the  sense  of 
occur,  take  place.  The  insurrection  in  Jamaica 
was  the  subject  of  discussion. 

“ So  that,  notwithstanding  that  the  population  of  the  Island 
was  450,000,  it  was  stated  that  only  1,500  voted  for  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Legislature.  The  whole  thing  had  culminated 
in  the  horrors  and  the  atrocities  which  had  lately  transpired 
there,  and  which  he  was  obliged  to  believe  had  thrown  discredit 
upon  the  English  government  and  the  English  character  in  every 
other  country  in  the  world.” 

So  I find  it  said,  in  a prominent  New  York  news- 
paper, that  "the  Mexican  war  transpired  in  the  year 
1847.”  The  writer  might  as  well  — and,  consider- 
ing the  latitude  in  which  the  battles  were  fought, 
might  better — have  said  that  the  Mexican  war 
perspired  in  the  year  1847.  The  most  monstrous 
perversion  of  the  word  that  I have  ever  met  with  — 
than  which  it  would  seem  that  none  could  be  more 
monstrous  — is  in  the  following  sentences,  the  first 
and  second  from  journals  of  the  highest  position, 
the  last  from  a volume  of  which  tens  of  thousands 
have  been  soldi,  and  which  aspires  to  the  dignity 
of  history : — 


MISUSED  WORDS 


167 


“Before  this  can  be  finished,  years  maj'  transpire;  indeed,  it 
may  take  as  long  to  complete  the  West  Bank  Island  Hospital  as 
it  has  taken  to  erect  the  new  Court-house.” 

“The  police  drill  will  transpire  under  shelter  to-day  in  conse- 
quence of  the  moist  atmosphere  prevailing.” 

“More  than  a century  was  allowed  to  transpire  before  the 
Mississippi  was  revisited  by  civilized  man.” 

To  any  person  who  has  in  mind  the  meaning  of 
the  word,  the  idea  of  years  and  centuries  and  police 
drills  transpiring,  is  ridiculous. 

There  is  a very  simple  test  of  the  correct  use  of 
transfire.  If  the  phrase  take  -place  can  be  substi- 
tuted for  it,  and  the  intended  meaning  of  the  sentence 
is  preserved,  its  use  is  unquestionably  wrong  ; if  the 
other  colloquial  phrase,  leak  out^  can  be  put  in  its 
place,  its  use  is  correct. 

This  is  illustrated  in  the  following  sentence  ; — 

“An  important  cabinet  meeting  was  held  to-day;  but  what 
took  place  did  not  transpire.”  * 


* The  writer  of  an  article  in  the  “Methodist  Quarterly  Review”  thus  boldly 
advocates  the  misuse  of  tra^ispire,  and  flouts  those  who  oppose  it ; — 

‘ ‘ We  have  no  07ie  word  to  express  the  regular  coming  into  existence  0/  att  event. 
. . . Now,  there  is  a word  which  is  fresh  and  clear,  which  is  not  very  irrevocably  ap- 
propriated to  any  other  idea,  and  which  by  popular  healthy  instinct  is  aspiring  to  occupy 
the  blank  spot.  The  word  is  transpire.  ‘O,  no,’  exclaim  the  effeminates,  ‘that  word 
must  not  designate  the  taking  place  of  an  event ; it  signifies  to  become  ktiown.'  It  is 
.of  no  use  to  tell  these  imbeciles  that  the  latter  meaning  is  itself  little  known,  little  used, 
and  little  needed,  while  the  want  it  is  called  to  supply  is  a startling  defect  in  the  entire 
hnguage.  You  may  supply  reasons,  but  you  cannot  supply  brains.  Your  only  method 
is  to  use  the  needed  word  in  the  needing  place,  and  leave  the  shrieking  pedant  to  his 
spasms.” 

To  this  the  answer  is,  first,  that  transpire  is  misused  to  express  not  the  regular  com- 
ing into  existence  of  an  event  out  the  most  hap-hazard  accidents  of  daily  life,  as  any 
one  may  see : jiext,  the  flat  contradiction  of  the  assertion  that  the  meaning,  to  become 
known,  is  little  known,  little  used,  and  little  needed.  Of  the  contrary,  examples  are 
given  above,  taken  from  newspapers  of  the  day ; and  here  follow  others,  recently  taken 
from  the  minor  news  reports  of  two  New  York  journals,  the  “Times”  and  the 
“ Tribune,”  which,  although  they  may  sometimes  have  been  written  by  imbeciles,  il 
would  seem  are  rarely  or  never  from  the  pens  of  pedants ; — 

“Nothing  new  transpired  concerning  the  steamer  Euterpe  yesterday.  Workmen 
were  engaged  in  filling  her  with  a quantity  of  hay,”  &c. 


i68 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES 


Those  Sort.  — Many  persons  who  should,  and 
who,  perhaps,  do,  know  better,  are  in  the  habit  of 
using  this  incongruous  combination,  ex gr.^  those  sort 
of  men,  instead  of  that  sort  of  men.  The  pronoun 
(so-called)  belongs  to  sort,  and  not  to  men.  It  would 
be  as  proper  to  say,  those  company  of  soldiers. 

Truism  is  often  used  for  truth,  as  if  such  use 
were  more  elegant  and  scholarly;  whereas  it  is  the 
reverse.  For  instance,  take  the  following  sentence 
from  a leading  article  in  a high-class  New  York 
newspaper : — 

“ That  the  rents  charged  for  tenements  on  the  lower  part  of 
this  island  are  higher  than  men  of  moderate  means  can  afford 
to  pay,  is  a palpable  truism.” 

It  is  no  such  thing.  The  writer  meant  to  say  that 

“ It  transpires  that  the  Gould-Fisk  control  of  the  Bank  is  not  to  be  consummated 
until  January,  although  Jay  Gould  is  already  a director.” 

“Hannah  Baker,  a child  nine  years  old,  was  kidnapped  near  her  home,  in  Park 
Avenue,  by  Catharine  Turner,  and  taken  to  New  York,  where  it  transpired  that  the 
child  disowned  the  woman  as  her  mother,”  &c. 

“ Soon  after  the  funeral,  however,  it  transpired  that  the  supposed  dead  and  buried 
woman  was  alive  and  in  good  health,  the  fact  being  made  certain  to  her  daughters  by 
her  actual,  living  presence.” 

And  see  the  following  passage  from  the  very  preamble  to  Resolutions  passed  at  a 
political  meeting  within  the  erudite  precincts  of  Tammany  Hall,  on  the  evening  of 
March  29,  1870:  — 

“ Whereas,  A call  for  a meeting  of  the  General  Committee,  to  be  held  in  Tammany 
Hall  this  evening,  has  been  issued,  having  for  its  ostensible  purpose  the  consideration 
of  measures  of  legislation  relating  to  this  city,  but  it  has  transpired  that  this  movement 
has  originated  with  Mr.  John  Morrissey  and  his  prominent  associates,”  &c.,  &c. 

The  contemporary  London  press  would  also  furnish  numberless  instances  like  the 
following ; — 

“ A meeting  of  the  Tory  party  was  called  by  Mr.  Disraeli,  on  Wednesday,  at  Lord 
Lonsdale’s  house.  The  meeting  was  fully  attended,  — Lord  Stanley, however,  being 
absent, — and  no  report  of  its  proceedings  was  allowed  to  transpire.”  — Spectator, 
April  17,  1869. 

A page  of  such  examples  might  be  taken  even  from  newspapers  published  within  a 
week  of  the  publication  of  the  ‘ Methodist  Quarterly’s  ’ assertion,  quoted  above.  The 
truth  is,  that  this  word  seems  to  be  used  in  its  proper  sense  by  all  who  know  its 
meaning,  in  which  sense  it  is  valuable,  and  atcupies  a place  which  can  be  filled  by 
no  other 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


169 


his  proposition  was  plainly  true ; but  to  say  so  sim- 
ply woulii  have  been  far  too  simple  a style  for  him. 
He  must  write  like  a moralist  or  a philosopher, 
according  to  his  notion  of  their  writing.  A truism 
is  a self-evident  truth ; a truth,  not  merely  the  truth 
in  the  form  of  a true  assertion  of  fact.  Thus  : The 
sun  is  bright,  is  not  a truism  : it  is  a self-evident 
fact,  but  not  a self-evident  truth.  But,  All  men 
must  die.  Youth  is  weak  before  temptation,  are  tru- 
isms ; i,  self-evident,  or  generally  admitted  truths. 

Ult.,  Inst.,  Prox. — These  contractions  oi  ulti- 
mo, instante,  and  -proximo,  should  be  used  as  little 
as  possible  by  those  who  wish  to  write  simple  Eng- 
lish. It  is  much  better  to  say  last  month,  this 
month,  next  7nonth.  The  contractions  are  conven- 
ient, however ; and  much  must  be  sacrificed  to  con- 
venience in  the  use  of  language.  But  from  the 
usage  in  question  a confusion  has  arisen,  of  which 
I did  not  know  until  I was  requested  to  decide  a 
dispute  whether,  in  a letter  written,  for  instance,  on 
the  15th  of  September,  "the  loth  ult.,”  would  mean 
the  last  loth,  i.  e.,  the  loth  of  September,  or  the  loth 
of  the  last  month,  i,  e,,  the  loth  of  August,  and  " the 
20th  prox.”  would  mean  the  next  20th  or  the  20th  of 
the  next  month,  October.  Ult,  and  prox.  are  con- 
tractions of  ultimo  and  proxhno,  which  are  the  abla- 
tive cases  of  ultimus  and  proximus,  and  mean,  not 
the  last  and  the  next,  but  in  the  last  and  in  the  next 
— whaf?  The  last  and  the  next  month.  Ultimo 
and  proxhno  are  themselves  contractions  of  ultimo 
mense,  in  the  last  month,  and  proximo  mense,  in 
the  next  month;  so  that  "the  loth  ult.”  means 
the  loth  day  in  the  last  month,  and  "the  20tb 


170 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


prox.”  the  20th  day  in  the  next  month.  In- 
stant is  instante  mense^  the  month  now  standing 
before  us.  We  do  a thing  instantly,  or  on  the  in- 
stant, when  we  do  it  at  the  present  moment,  the 
moment  standing  before  us.  But  I submit  it  to  the 
good  sense  of  my  readers  that  it  is  better  to  write 
August  loth  and  October  20th,  than  to  write  loth 
ult.  and  20th  prox.,  and  that  it  is  nearly  as  expe- 
ditious and  convenient. 

Utter.  — This  word  is  merely  outer  in  another 
form.  The  outer,  or  utter,  darkness  of  the  New 
Testament  is  the  darkness  of  a place  completely 
outside  of  the  realm  of  light.  To  utter  is  merely  to 
put  out,  to  put  forth,  or  outside  of  the  person  utter- 
ing. Utter  nonsense  is  that  which  is  entirely  outside 
the  pale  of  reason.  Tliis  outwardness  is  the  essence 
of  the  word  in  all  its  legitimate  uses,  and  in  all  its 
modifications.  But  some  people  seem  to  think* that 
because,  for  instance,  utter  darkness  is  perfect  dark- 
ness, and  utter  nonsense  absolute  nonsense,  there- 
fore utter  means  perfect,  absolute,  complete.  Thus, 
in  a criticism  in  a literary  paper  upon  a great  pic- 
ture, it  is  said  of  the  color  that  " the  effect  is  that  of 
utter  harmony ; ” and  in  one  of  Mrs.  Edwards’s 
novels,  she  says  of  a girl  and  a man,  "Nelly’s 
nature  fitted  into  his  nature  utterly.”  This  is  sheer 
nonsense,  unless  we  agree  to  deprive  utterly  of  its 
proper  meaning,  and  make  it  do  superfluous  duty 
as  a mere  synonyme  of  complete  and  -perfect^  which 
would  be  by  just  so  much  to  impoverish  and  confuse 
our  language.  The  use  of  this  word  in  the  sense 
of  absolutely  is  not,  however,  of  recent  or  of  popu 
lar  origin.  Witness  the  following  examples:  — 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


I7I 


“ Full  cunningly  these  lords  two  he  grette, 

And  did  his  message,  asking  him  anon 
If  that  they  were  broken,  or  aught  wo  begon, 

Or  had  need  of  lodesmen  or  vitaile,  ^ 

For  socoure  they  shoulde  nothing  feile, 

For  it  was  utterly  the  queenes  will.” 

Chaucer^  Legend  of  Good  Women,  i.  1460. 

“ It  is  not  necessary  that  Traditions  and  Ceremonies  be  in  ah 
places  utterly  alike.” 

Thirty-Nine  Articles  of  the  Church  of  Englatid,  Art.  34. 

Ventilate. — Many  persons  object  to  the  use 
cf  this  word  in  the  sense  of  to  bring  into  discussion, 
on  the  ground  that  it  is  a neologism.  This  use,  of 
course,  is  metaphorical ; and  while  we  may  say  that 
a man  airs  his  notions  at  a public  meeting  or  in  a 
newspaper,  I am  not  prepared  to  defend  the  good 
taste  of  saying  that  he  ventilates  them.  But  this 
use  of  ventilate  is  not  a neologism,  as  appears  by 
this  passage  in  a state  paper  of  the  time  of  Henry 
the  Eighth,  quoted  by  Froude  : ”Nor  shall  it  ever 
be  seen  that  the  king’s  cause  shall  be  ventilated  or 
decided  in  any  place  out  of  his  own  realm.” 

Veracity.  — It  is  newspaper  English  to  say,  as 
nowadays  is  often  said,  that  a man  is  "a  man  of 
truth  and  veracity.”  Veraeity  is  merely  an  Angli- 
cized Latin  synonyme  of  truthfulness.  Truth  and 
veracity  is  a weak  pleonasm.  But  veraeity  is  prop- 
ery  applied  to  persons,  truth  to  things.  A story  is 
or  is  not  true ; a man  is  or  is  not  veracious  — if 
truthful  is  too  plain  a word.  We  may  doubt  the 
truth  of  a story  because  we  doubt  the  veracity,  or, 
better,  the  truthfulness,  of  the  teller. 

Vicinity.  — This  word  is  subject  to  no  perversion 
of  sense  that  I have  observed  ; but  it  is  very  often  in- 
correctly and  vulgarly  used  without  the  possesrdve 


172 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


pronoun  necessary  to  define  it  and  cause  it  to  express 
a thing  instead  of  a thought.  Thus  : New  York  and 
vicinity,  instead  of  New  York  and  its  vicinity.  With 
equal  correctness  and  good  taste  we  might  say, 
New  York  and  neighborhood;  which  no  one,  I 
believe,  would  think  of  doing.  This  error  has 
arisen  from  the  frequent  occurrence  of  such  phrases 
as,  this  city  and  vicinity,  i.  ^.,  this  city  and  this 
vicinity,  this  being  understood.  So  we  may  say, 
this  village  and  neighborhood.  When  a pronoun 
is  used  before  a common  noun,  as,  this  town,  this 
village,  it  need  not  be  repeated  after  the  conjunction 
which  unites  the  noun  to  vicinity.  But  otherwise  a 
pronoun  is  required  before  vicinity^  just  as  one  is 
before  neighborhood^  which,  in  most  cases  in  which 
viemity  is  used,  is  the  better,  as  well  as  the  shorter, 
word. 

Vulgar,  the  primitive  meaning  of  which  is  com- 
mon., and  which,  from  its  frequent  qualification  of 
the  conduct  and  the  speech  of  the  vulgar,  came  in 
natural  course,  to  mean  low,  rude,  impolite,  is  often 
misused  in  the  sense  of  immodest.  A lady  not 
without  culture  said  to  another  of  a third,  "She 
dresses  very  low  ; but  as  she  has  no  figure,  \t  doesn’t 
look  vulgar ; ” meaning,  by  the  feminine  malice  of 
her  apology,  that  it  did  not  look  immodest.  The 
gown  was  perhaps  low  enough  (at  the  top)  to  be 
vulgar,  if  material  lowness  were  vulgarity  ; but  only 
that  which  is  metaphorically  low  is  vulgar. 

Widow  Woman.  — Here  is  an  unaccountable 
superfluity  of  words ; for  it  would  seem  that  the 
most  ignorant  of  those  persons  who  use  the  phrase 
must  know  that  a widow  is  necessarily  a womanr 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


173 


It  would  be  as  well  to  say  a female  lady,  or  a she 
cow.  The  error  is  hardly  worth  this  notice ; but 
the  antiquity  of  the  word  widow  in  exactly  the  same 
sense  in  which  it  is  now  used,  the  remoteness  of  its 
oriofin,  and  the  vast  distance  which  it  has  travelled 
through  ages  without  alteration  of  any  kind,  — ex- 
cept as  to  the  pronunciation  of  v and  w^  which  are 
continually  interchanging,  not  only  in  various  lan- 
guages but  in  the  same  language,  — make  it  an  unu- 
sually interesting  word.  How  many  thousand  years 
this  name  for  a bereaved  woman  has  been  used,  by 
what  variety  of  nations,  and  over  what  extent  of  the 
earth's  surface,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  determine. 
Our  Anglo-Saxon  forefathers  used  it  a thousand 
years  ago  in  England  and  in  North  Germany  ; they 
spelled  it  widuwe  or  wudewe.  The  Masso-Goths, 
in  the  fourth  century,  for  the  same  thing  used  the 
same  word  — widowo.  But  nearly  a thousand  years 
before  that  time  it  was  used  by  the  Latin  people, 
who  wrote  it  vidua.  And  yet  again,  a thousand 
years  and  more  backward,  on  the  slopes  of  the 
Himalayas  a bereaved  wife  was  called  a widow ; 
for  in  the  Sanscrit  of  the  Rig  Veda  we  find  the 
word  vidhavd.*  Pronounce  the  v as  w^  and  see 
how  simply  each  stricken  woman  has  taken  this 
word  from  her  stricken  sister  and  passed  it  on  from 
lip  to  lip  as  they  were  bearing  our  fathers  in  the 
weary  pilgrimage  of  war  and  suffering  through  un- 
told ages  from  what  are  now  the  remotest  bounds  of 
civilization.  The  Sanscrit  vidhavd  is  merely  the 


* I give  this  on  the  authority  of  Max  Muller.  My  having  in  Sanscrit,  like  Orlando’s 
oeard,  is  a younger  brother’s  revenue — what  1 can  glean  from  the  well-worked  fields 
of  ray  elders  and  betters. 


174 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


word  dkavd,  a man,  and  without;  so  that  the 
word  at  its  original  formation  meant  simply  a wo- 
man left  without  a man,  just  as  it  does  to-day  ; and  it 
has  remained  all  these  ages  materially  unchanged 
both  in  sound  and  meaning. 

Widow  is  one  of  the  very  few  words  of  which  the 
feminine  form  is  the  original ; for  owing  to  the  traits, 
functions,  and  relations  of  the  sexes,  among  no  peo- 
ple would  a peculiar  name  be  first  given  to  a man 
who  was  deprived  of  a woman.  It  would  be  only 
after  the  condition  of  widowhood  had  been  long 
recognized,  and  conventional  usages  had  narrowed 
and  straitened  the  sexual  relations,  that  it  would 
enter  the  mind  of  a people  to  give  widow  its  mascu- 
line companion-word.  It  must  be  admitted  that  in 
English  this  has  been  done  clumsily.  Widower  is 
a poor  word,  which  should  mean  one  who  widows, 
not  who  is  widowed.  Its  etymology  seems  uncer- 
tain ; for  it  can  hardly  be  a modern  form  of  zvidiiway 
which  is  given  by  Morris  {English  Accidence^  p.  82), 
but  not  by  Bosworth,  as  the  masculine  of  zvidiiwe. 
But  finely  formed  and  touching  as  the  original  femi- 
nine word  is,  it  was  inevitable  that  the  preposterous- 
ness of  forming  upon  it  a masculine  counterpart 
should  produce  monstrosity.  The  same  difficulty 
did  not  occur  in  Latin ; for  although  it  would  seem 
that  the  word  must  have  come  into  that  language  in 
its  original  feminine  forn'i,  yet,  as  the  Latin  had  gen- 
der, all  that  was  necessary  was  to  give  vidua  a mascu- 
line termination,  and  it  became  viduus,  or  a neuter, 
and  it  became  viduum.  It  was  an  adjective  in  Latin, 
as  doubtless  it  was  first  in  Sanscrit,  and  it  became  a 
noun  also,  like  many  adjectives  in  most  languages 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


175 

By  metaphor  it  came  to  mean  deprived,  deprived 
of  anything.  But  until  recently  deprived  was  given 
in  Latin  lexicons  as  its  primary  meaning,  and  de- 
prived of  wife  or  husband  was  given  as  its  secon- 
dary and  dependent  meaning, — preposterously,  as 
we  have  seen.  It  must  have  been  applied  first  to 
women,  then  to  men,  and  last  to  things  in  general, 
which  is  the  natural  manner  of  growth  in  language. 
Men  do  not  conceive  an  abstract  idea  and  then  pro- 
ject their  thoughts  into  infinite  space  in  search  of  a 
name  for  the  new  born  ; but  having  names  for  par- 
ticular and  concrete  objects,  they  transfer,  modify, 
and  combine  these  names  to  designate  new  things 
and  new  thoughts.* 

Witness.  — This  word  is  used  by  many  per- 
sons as  a big  synonyme  of  scc^  with  absurd  effect. 
" I declare,”  an  enthusiastic  son  of  Columbia  says, 
as  he  gazes  upon  New  York  harbor,  " this  is  the  most 
splendid  bay  I ever  witnessed.”  In  which  exclama- 
tion, by  the  by,  if  the  speaker  has  much  acquaint- 
ance with  bays,  the  taste  is  worthy  of  the  English. 
Wdness,  an  English  or  Anglo-Saxon  word,  is  from 
witan^  to  know,  and  means  testimony  from  per- 
sonal knowledge,  and  so  the  person  who  gives  such 
testimony ; and  hence  the  verb  witness^  to  be  able 
to  give  testimony  from  personal  knowledge.  A 
man  witnesses  a murder,  an  assault,  a theft,  the 
execution  of  a deed,  or  of  the  sentence  of  a felon. 
He  witnesses  any  act  at  the  performance  of  which 
he  is  present  and  observing.  " Bear  witness,” 


^ la  two  out:  of  seventy  instances  in  the  English  Bible  a widow  is  called  a 
widow  woman  ; the  reason  being,  as  I am  informed  by  a friend  who  is,  what  I 
am  not,  a Hebrew  scholar,  that  in  those  cases  the  original  reads  “ a woman  a 
Ividow.” 


176 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Bay  we,  " that  I do  thus.”  But  we  cannot  witness  a 
thing  : no  more  a bay  or  a range  of  mountains  than 
a poodle  dog  or  a stick  of  candy. 

And  yet,  if  mere  ancient  usage  and  high  authority 
could  justify  any  form  of  speech,  this  would  not  be 
without  an  approach  to  such  justification,  as  will  be 
seen  by  the  following  sentence  in  Wycliffe’s  "Apolo- 
gy for  the  Lollards  : ” — 

“ Forsol?  it  is  an  horrible  hing  pat  in  sum  kirkes  is  witnessid 
marchaundis  to  haue  place.”  — p.  50,  £d.  Camd.  Soc 


SQUEAMISH  CANT. 

Persons  of  delicacy  so  supersensitive  that  they 
shrink  from  plain  words,  and  fear  to  call  things  by 
their  names,  who  think  evil  of  the  mothers  that  bore 
them,  and,  if  men,  of  the  women  who  have  brought 
them  children,  and  who  are  so  prurient  that  they 
prick  up  their  ears  and  blush  at  any  implied  dis- 
tinction of  sex  in  language,  even  in  the  name  of  a 
garment,  would  do  well  to  avoid  the  rest  of  this 
chapter,  which  cannot  but  give  them  offence.  But 
that  would  leave  me  only  the  well-bred  and  modest 
among  my  readers ; and  they  are  they  'who  least 
need  counsel  in  the  use  of  language. 

Chemise.  — How  and  why  English  women  came 
to  call  their  first  under-garment  a chemise^  it  is  not 
easy  to  discover.  For  in  the  French  language  the 
word  means  no  more  or  less  than  shirt,  and  its 
meaning  is  not  changed  or  its  sound  improved  by 
those  who  pronounce  it  shimmy.  Of  the  two  names 
shirt  and  stnock,  given  at  a remote  period  to  this 
garment,  the  first  was  common,  like  chemise  in 


MISUSED  WORDS.  1 77 

French,  to  both  sexes  ; e.  g.^  the  following  passage 
from  Gower’s  ''  Confessio  Amantis  ; ” — 

“Jason  his  clothes  on  him  cast,  ' 

And  made  him  redj  right  anon, 

And  she  her  sherte  did  upon 
And  cast  on  her  a mantel  close, 

Withoute  more,  and  than  arose.” 

By  common  consent  shirt  came  to  be  confined 
to  the  man’s  garment,  and  s?noch  to  the  woman’s, 
to  express  which  it  was  generally,  if  not  univer- 
sally, used  until  the  middle  of  the  last  century. 
It  is  now  so  used  by  some  English  women  of 
high  rank  and  breeding,  and  unimpeachable  in 
propriety  of  conduct,  while  by  the  large  majority 
it  is  now  thought  coarse  — why,  is  past  conjecture. 
The  place  of  s7nock  was  taken  and  held  for  a time 
by  shift  — a very  poor  word  for  the  purpose,  the 
name  of  the  act  of  changing  being  applied  to  the 
garment  changed.  As  smock  followed  shirty  so 
shift  has  followed  smock;  and  women  have  returned 
to  shirt  again,  merely  giving  it  its  French  name. 
From  this  it  is  more  than  possible  that  the  grand- 
daughters of  those  who  now  use  it  with  no  more 
thought  that  it  is  indelicate  stockings  may  shrink 
as  they  now  do  from  smock  or  shifty  and  for  the 
same  reason,  or,  rather,  with  the  same  lack  of  rea- 
son. Indeed,  the  history  of  our  language  gives  us 
reason  to  believe  that  this  will  surely  happen,  unless 
good  sense,  simplicity,  and  real  purity  of  thought 
should  drive  out  the  silly  shame  that  seeks  to  hide 
its  unnatural  face  behind  a transparent  veil  of  for- 
eign making. 

Enceinte. — The  use  of  this  French  word  by 
English-speaking  folk  to  mean,  with  child,  like  tha 

12 


178 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


of  accouchement  for  delivery,  seems  to  me  gross,  pru- 
rient, and  foolish.  Can  there  be  a sweeter,  purer 
phrase  applied  to  a woman,  one  better  fitted  to  claim 
for  her  tenderness  and  deference  from  every  man, 
than  to  say  of  her  that  she  is  with  child  ? What  is 
gained  by  the  use  of  the  French  word,  or  of  the  round- 
about phrase  " in  a delicate  situation  ” ? Certainly 
nothing  is  gained  in  delicacy  by  implying,  as  these 
periphrastic  euphemisms  do,  that  her  condition  is  in- 
delicate. Delicate  health  may  be  owing  to  various 
causes  ; and  yet  even  the  phrase  ”in  delicate  health” 
is  used  by  many  persons  with  exclusive  limitation 
to  pregnancy  or  child-bearing.  There  is  about  this 
a cowardly,  mean-minded  shifting  and  shuffling 
which  is  very  contemptible.  Can  there  be  in  lan- 
guage anj^thing  purer  and  sweeter  than  the  declara- 
tion, "Fie  shall  tenderly  lead  all  those  that  are  with 
young,”  or  that,  "Woe  unto  them  that  are  with 
child,  and  to  them  that  give  suck,  in  those  da3^s”? 
As  bad  as  accouchement  is  confined^  used  in  a sim- 
ilar sense  — worse,  indeed;  for  the  former  does 
mean  a bringing  to  bed.  The  use  of  this  word  is 
carried  b^"  some  persons  to  that  pitch  of  idiocy  that, 
instead  of  saying  of  a woman  that  her  child  was 
born  at  such  or  such  an  hour,  — half  past  six,  foi 
instance,  — they  will  say  that  she  was  confined  at 
half  past  six;  the  fact  being  that  she  was  confined, 
and  from  the  same  cause,  just  as  much  a few  hours 
before,  and  would  before  some  days  afterward. 
This  esoteric  use  of  this  word  is  liable  to  ludicrous 
and  unpleasant  consequences  — like  this.  A lady 
was  reading  aloud  in  a circle  of  friends  a letter  just 
received.  She  read,  " We  are  in  great  trouble. 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


179 


Poor  Mary  has  been  confined”  — and  there  she 
stopped ; for  that  was  the  last  word  on  a sheet,  and 
the  next  sheet  had  dropped  and  fluttered  away,  and 
poor  Mary,  unmarried,  was  left  really  in  a delicate 
situation  until  the  missing  sheet  was  found,  and  the 
reader  continued  — ”to  her  room  for  three  days, 
with  what,  we  fear,  is  suppressed  scarlet  fever.” 
The  disuse  of  the  verb  to  child  has  been  a real  loss 
to  our  language,  with  the  genius  of  which  it  was 
in  perfect  harmony,  while  it  expressed  the  fact  in- 
tended to  be  conveyed  with  a simplicity  and  delicacy 
which  would  seem  unobjectionable  to  every  one, 
except  those  who  are  so  superfinely  and  super- 
humanly shameful  that  they  think  it  immodest  that 
a woman  should  bear  and  bring  forth  a child  at  all. 
It  might  comfort  them  in  the  use  of  this  word  to  re- 
member that  the  French,  which  they  regard  as  a 
language  so  much  more  refined  than  their  own,  has 
in  constant  use  an  exactly  correspondent  word, — 
enfaiiter.  But  that  might  lead  them  to  say  that 
yesterday  Mrs.  Jones  enfanted.* 

Female. — The  use  of  this  word  for  woman  is 
one  of  the  most  unpleasant  and  inexcusable  of  the 
common  perversions  of  language.  It  is  not  a Brit- 
icism, although  it  is  much  more  in  vogue  among 
British  writers  and  speakers  than  among  our  own. 
With  us  lady  is  the  favorite  euphemism  for  woman. 
For  every  one  of  the  softer  and  more  ambitious  sex 
who  is  dissatisfied  with  her  social  position,  or  uncer- 
tain of  it,  seems  to  share  Mrs.  Quickly’s  dislike  of 
being  called  a woman.  There  is  no  lack  of  what  is 
called  authoritative  usage  during  three  centuries  for 
this  misuse  of female.  But  this  is  one  of  those  per- 


• See  Note  at  tlie  end  of  this  chaptei’. 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


i8o 

versions  which  are  justified  by  no  example,  however 
eminent.  A cow,  or  a sow,  or  any  she  brute,  is  a 
female,  just  as  a woman  is ; as  a man  is  no  more  a 
male  than  a bull  is,  or  a boar ; and  when  a woman 
calls  herself  a female,  she  merely  shares  her  sex 
with  all  her  fellow-females  throughout  the  brute 
creation.* 

Gentleman,  Lady.  — These  words  have  been 
forced  upon  us  until  they  have  begun  to  be  nau- 
seous, by  people  who  will  not  do  me  the  honor  of 
reading  this  book ; so  that  any  plea  here  for  man 
and  wo7nan  would  be  in  vain  and  out  of  place.  But  ' 
I will  notice  a very  common  misuse  of  the*  former, 
which  prevails  in  business  correspondence,  in  which 
Mr.  A.  is  addressed  as  Sir,  but  the  firm  of  A.  B.  & 
Co.  as  Gentlemen.  Now,  the  plural  of  Sir  is  Sirs  ; 
and  li gentlejnan  has  any  significance  at  all,  it  ought 
not  to  be  made  common  and  unclean  b}^  being  ap- 
plied to  mere  business  purposes.  As  to  the  ado  that 
is  made  about  "Mr.  Blank  and  lady,”  it  seems  to 
me  quite  superfluous.  If  it  pleases  an}^  man  to  an- 
nounce on  a hotel  book  that  his  wife,  or  any  other 
woman  who  is  travelling  under  his  protection,  is  a 
lady,  a perfect  lady,  let  him  do  so  in  peace.  This 
is  a matter  of  taste  and  habit.  The  world  is  wide, 
and  the  freedom  of  this  country  has  not  yet  quite 
deprived  us  of  the  right  of  choosing  our  associates 
or  of  forming  our  own  manners. 

* The  following  whimsical  fling  at  this  squeamishness  is  from  Graham’s  “Word 
Gossip,”  which  has  appeared  since  the  publication  of  these  chapters  in  their  original 
form.  Observe  the  implication  that  a young  person  must  be  of  the  female  sex.  This 
is  a Briticism  — 

“In  the  many  surgings  of  the  mighty  crowd  I had  actually  laboured  to  assist  and 
protect  two  (1  was  going  to  say  ladies,  but  ladies  are  grateful ; 1 can’t  say  young  per- 
sons, for  they  wern’t  young  ; nor  can  I say  women,  for  that  is  considered  a sliglit ; or 
leinales,  for  such  persons  are  no  longer  supposed  to  exist)  — well,  two  individuals  of  a 
different  sex  from  mv  own.”  — p.  79- 


MISUSED  WORDS. 


i8i 


Limb. — A squeamishness,  which  I am  really 
ashamed  to  notice,  leads  many  persons  to  use  this 
word  exclusively  instead  of  leg,  A limb  is  any^ 
thing  which  is  separated  from  another  thing,  and  yet 
joined  to  it.  In  old  English  limbed  was  used  to 
mean  joined.  Thus,  in  the  ” Ancren  Riwle,”  " Lok- 
eth  that  ye  beon  euer  mid  onnesse  of  herte  ilhned 
togeder,”  i.  e.,  "Look  that  ye  be  ever  with  oneness 
of  heart  joined  together.”  The  branches  of  a tree 
have  a separate  individual  character,  and  are  yet 
parts  of  the  tree,  and  thus  are  limbs.  The  fingers 
are  properly  limbs  of  the  hand ; but  the  word  is 
generally  applied  to  the  greater  divisions,  both  of 
trees  and  animals.  The  limbs  of  the  human  body 
are  the  arms  and  the  legs ; the  latter  no  more  so 
than  the  former.  Yet  some  folk  will  say  that  by  a 
railway  accident  one  woman  had  her  arms  broken, 
and  another  her  limbs  — meaning  her  legs ; and 
some  will  say  that  a woman  hurt  her  leg  when  her 
thigh  was  injured.  Perhaps  these  persons  think 
that  it  is  indelicate  for  a woman  to  have  legs,  and 
that  therefore  they  are  concealed  by  garments,  and 
should  be  ignored  in  speech.  Heaven  help  such 
folk ; they  are  far  out  of  my  reach.  I can  only  say  to 
them  that  there  is  no  immodesty  in  speaking  of  any 
part  or  function  of  the  human  body  when  there  is 
necessity  for  doing  so,  and  that  when  they  are 
spoken  of  it  is  immodest  not  to  call  them  by  their 
proper  names.  The  notion  that  by  giving  a bad 
thing  a wrong  or  an  unmeaning  name,  the  thing,  or 
the  mention  of  it,  is  bettered,  is  surely  one  of  the 
silliest  that  ever  entered  the  mind  of  man.  It  is 
the  occasion  and  the  purpose  of  speech  that  make 


i82 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES 


it  modest  or  immodest,  not  the  thing  spoken  of,  oi 
the  giving  it  its  proper  name. 

Retire.  — If  you  are  going  to  bed,  say  so, 
should  there  be  occasion.  Don’t  talk  about  retir- 
ing, unless  you  would  seem  like  a prig  or  a prurient 
prude. 

Rooster. — A rooster  is  any  animal  that  roosts. 
Almost  all  birds  are  roosters,  the  hens,  of  course, 
as  well  as  the  cocks.  What  sense  or  delicacy,  then, 
is  there  in  calling  the  cock  of  the  domestic  fowl  a 
rooster,  as  many  people  do?  The  cock  is  no  more 
a rooster  than  the  hen ; and  domestic  fowls  are  no  ' 
more  roosters  than  canary  birds  or  peacocks.  Out 
of  this  nonsense,  however,  people  must  be  laughed, 
rather  than  reasoned. 

Note  (p.  179),— Southey  uses  the  verb  to  child  in  “The  Battle  of  Blenheim,” 
one  of  the  simplest  and  most  popular  of  his  poems. 

) 

“And  many  a childing  mother  died.” 

How  much  more  truly  decent  and  delicate  this  is  than  the  following  passage 
from,  I am  sorry  to  say,  the  London  “ Medical  Press : ” 

“ For  what  female  about  legitimately  to  become  a mother  would  desire  to  be 
among  strangers  at  such  a time  ! ” 

That  a physician,  of  all  men,  should  call  a wife  near  her  delivery,  or  a mar- 
ried woman  near  childbirth,  by  such  a sickening  round-about  phrase  as  “ a 
female  about  legitimately  to  become  a mother  ! ” But  the  e.Ktremity  of  this 
nauseating  nonsense  was  reached  in  a woman’s  letter  which  was  produced  in  a 
divorce  case  in  some  Western  State.  The  wife,  who  was  herself  with  cnild 
when  she  was  married,  discovered,  about  six  months  afterwards,  a letter  ad- 
dressed to  her  husband  in  a feminine  hand,  which  she  was  dishonorable  enough 
to  open  and  read.  In  it  she  found,  as  she  deserved  to  find,  this  question • 

“ Did  you  marry  that  child  because  she  too  was  eti  famille?"  As  a combina-* 
tion  of  ignorant  pretension  and  prurient  prudery,  this  is  unsurpassable.  En 
famille  means  at  home,  without  ceremony,  in  the  family  circle,  domestic. 
This  poor  creature  thought  she  was  elegantly  using  the  French  for  that  hideo  jS 
English  phrase,  “ In  the  family  way.” 


SOME  BRITICISMS. 


183 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SOME  BRITICISMS. 

I HAVE  heretofore  designated  the  misuse  of  cer- 
tain words  as  Briticisms.  There  is  a British 
affectation  in  the  use  of  a few  other  words  which  is 
worthy  of  some  attention.  And  in  saying  that  a form 
of  English  speech  is  of  British  origin,  or  is  a Briti- 
cism, I mean  that  it  has  arisen  or  come  into  vogue 
in  Great  Britain  since  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  when,  by  the  union  of  England  and  Scot- 
land (A.  D.  1706-7),  the  King  of  England  and  of 
Scotland  became  King  of  the  United  Kingdom  of 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  a British  took  the  place 
of  an  English  Parliament,  and  Englishmen  became 
politically  Britons.  This  period  is  one  of  mark'  in 
social  and  literary,  as  well  as  in  political  history. 
To  us  it  is  one  of  interest,  because,  about  that 
time,  although  our  political  bonds  were  not  severed 
until  three  quarters  of  a century  latter,  our  absolute 
identity  with  the  English  of  the  mother  country  may 
be  regarded  as  having  ceased.  For,  after  a mod- 
erate Jacobite  exodus  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  there  was  comparatively  little  emigration 
from  the  old  England  to  the  new.  They  change 
their  skies,  but  not  their  souls,  wFo  cross  the  sea; 
and  whatever  the  population  of  this  country  may 


184 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


become  hereafter,  it  had  remained,  till  within  twen- 
ty-five years,  as  to  race,  an  English  people,  just 
as  absolutely  as  if  our  fathers  had  not  left  the  Old 
Home.  The  history  of  England,  of  the  old  Eng- 
land, pure  and  simple,  is  our  history.  In  British 
history  we  have  only  the  interest  of  kinsmen  ; but 
the  English  language  and  English  literature  before 
the  modern  British  period  belongs  to  both  of  us,  in 
the  same  completeness  and  by  the  same  title  — in- 
heritance from  our  common  fathers,  who  spoke  it 
and  wrote  it,  quickened  by  the  same  blood,  on  the 
same  soil.  And,  in  fact,  the  English  of  the  period 
when  Shakespeare  wrote  and  the  Bible  was  trans- 
lated has  been  kept  in  use  among  people  of  educa- 
tion somewhat  more  in  the  new  England  than  in 
the  old.  All  over  the  country  there  are  some  words 
and  phrases  in  common  use,  and  in  certain  parts 
of  New  England  and  Virginia  there  are  many, 
which  have  been  dropped  in  British  England,  or 
are  to  be  found  only  among  the  squires  and  farmers 
in  the  recesses  of  the  rural  counties.  The  forms 
of  speech  which  may  be  conveniently  called  Briti- 
cisms, are,  however,  generally  of  later  origin  than 
the  beginning  of  the  British  empire.  They  have  al- 
most all  of  them  sprung  up  since  about  A.  D.  1775. 

As  WELL. — This  phrase  is  improperly  used  by 
some  British  writers  in  the  sense  of  all  the  same. 
For  instance,  " Her  aged  lover  made  her  presents, 
but  just  as  well  she  hated  the  sight  of  him  and  the 
sound  of  his  voice;”  /.  she  hated  him  all  the 
same.  This  misusage  has  yet  no  foothold  here, 
although,  owing  to  the  influence  ot  second-rate 
British  novels,  it  begins  to  be  heard. 


SOME  BRITICISMS. 


i8s 

Awful.  — It  would  seem  superfluous  to  say  that 
awful  is  not  a synonyme  of  very^  were  it  not  that 
the  word  is  thus  used  by  many  people  who  should 
know  better  than  to  do  so.  The  misuse  is  a Briti- 
cism ; but  it  has  been  spreading  here  within  the  last 
few  years.  I have  heard  several  educated  English 
gentlemen  speak  in  sober,  unconscious  good  faith 
of  "awfully  nice  girls,”  "awfully  pretty  women,” 
and  "awfully  jolly  people.”  That  is  awful  which 
inspires  or  is  inspired  by  awe  ; and  in  the  line  in  the 
old  metrical  version  of  the  Hundredth  Psalm, 

“ Glad  homage  pay  with  awful  mirth,” 

Tate  and  Brady  did  not  mean  that  we  were  to  be 
awfully  jolly,  or  very  mirthful  or  gay,  in  our  worship. 
Observe  here,  again,  how  misuse  debases  a good 
and  much-needed  word,  and  voids  it  of  its  meaning, 
by  just  so  much  impoverishing  the  language. 

Commence. — There  is  a British  misuse  of  this 
word  which  is  remarkably  coarse  and  careless. 
British  writers  of  all  grades  but  the  very  highest  will 
say,  for  instance,  that  a man  went  to  London  and 
commenced  poet,  or  commenced  politician.  Mr. 
Swinburne  says  that  " Blake  commenced  pupil ; ” 
and  Pope,  quoted  by  Johnson, — 

“ If  wit  so  much  from  ignorance  undergo, 

Ah,  let  not  learning  too  commence  its  foe.” 

A man  may  commence  life  as  an  author,  or  a poli- 
tician, or  he  may  commence  a book,  or  any  other 
task,  although  it  is  better  to  say  he  begins  either. 
But  it  is  either  a state  or  an  action  that  he  com- 
mences. Commencement  cannot  be  properly  pred- 
icated of  a noun  which  does  not  express  the  idea 
of  continuance.  It  may  be  said  that  a woman 


1 86  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

commences  married  life,  or  that  she  commences 
jilting,  but  not  that  she  commences  wife,  or  com- 
mences jilt,  any  more  than  that  she  ends  hussy. 

■Directly.  — The  radical  meaning  of  this  word 
is,  in  a right  line  ; and  hence,  as  a right  line  is  the 
shortest  distance  between  two  points,  it  means  at 
once,  immediately.  Its  synonyme  in  both  senses  is 
a good  English  word,  now,  unhappily,  somewhat 
obsolete — straightway . But  John  Bull  uses  directly 
in  a way  that  is  quite  indefensible  — to  wit,  in  the 
sense  of  when,  as  soon  as.  This  use  of  the  word  is 
a wide-spread  Briticism,  and  prevails  even  among 
the  most  cultivated  writers.  For  instance,  -in  the 
London  "Spectator”  of  May  2,  1867,  it  is  said  that 
" Directly  Mr.  Disraeli  finished  speaking,  Mr.  Lowe 
rose  to  oppose,”  etc.  Anglice^  As  soon  as  Mr. 
Disraeli  finished  speaking,  etc.  It  is  difficult  to 
trace  by  continuous  steps  the  course  of  this  strange 
perversion,  for  which  there  is  neither  justification 
nor  palliation.  A fortnight  ago  I should  have  said 
that  it  was  unknown  among  speakers  and  writers 
of  American  birth ; but  since  then  I have  read  Mr. 
Howells’s  charming  book,  "Italian  Journeys,”  than 
which  I know  no  book  of  travel  more  richly  fraught 
with  pleasure  to  a gentle  reader.  And  by  a gentle 
reader  I mean  one  who,  like  its  author,  can  look 
not  only  with  delight  upon  all  that  is  beautiful  and 
loveable,  but  with  sympathy  upon  that  which  is 
neither  beautiful  nor  loveable  in  the  customs  and 
characters  of  those  who  are  strangers  to  him,  whose 
wa3'^s  of  wickedness  are  not  his  ways,  and  whose 
follies  are  foreign  to  him,  — one  who  can  admire  the 
boldness  of  an  impostor,  and  see  the  humorous  side 


SOME  BRITICISMS. 


187 


of  rascality.  When  a traveller  sees  with  Mr.  How- 
ells’s  very  human  eyes,  and  writes  with  his  graphic 
and  humorous  pen,  — a pen  that  caricatures  with  ^ 
keenness  to  which  malice  gives  no  edge, — travel- 
ling with  him  on  paper,  which  is  generally  either 
the  dullest  or  the  most  frivolous  of  employments,  is 
one  of  the  most  inspiriting,  and  not  the  least  in- 
structive. Mr.  Howells’s  style,  too,  is  so  good,  it 
shows  such  unobtrusive  and  seemingly  unconscious 
mastery  of  idiomatic  English,  that  I notice  with  the 
more  freedom  two  or  three  lapses,  one  of  which, 
at  least,  I attribute  to  the  deleterious  influences  of 
foreign  travel.  I am  sure  that  it  was  not  in  New 
England,  and  not  until  after  he  had  been  subjected 
to  daily  intercourse  with  British  speakers  and  to  the 
influence  of  British  journals,  that  he  learned  to  write 
such  sentences  as  these  : ” Directly  I found  the  house 
inhabited  by  living  people,  I began  to  be  sorry  that 
it  was  not  as  empty  as  the  library  and  the  street,’ 
p.  30.  " I was  more  interested  in  the  disreputable 

person  who  mounted  the  box  beside  our  driver 
directly  we  got  out  of  our  city  gate,”  p.  218.  Mr. 
Howells  meant  that  zi'/ien  he  found  the  house  in- 
habited he  began  to  be  sorry,  and  that  the  interest- 
ing and  disreputable  person  mounted  his  coach-box 
«s  soon  as  they  got  out  of  the  gate.  Mr.  Howells 
is  the  first  born  and  bred  Yankee  that  I have  known 
to  be  guilty  of  this^British  offence  against  the  Eng- 
lish language ; and  his  example  is  likely  to  exert 
30  much  more  influence  than  my  precept,  that,  unless 
he  repents,  I am  likely  to  be  pilloried  as  his  perse- 
cutor by  the  multitude  of  his  followers.  But  I am 
sure  that  he  will  repent,  and  that,  with  the  amiable 


i88 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


leaning  toward  iniquity  which  enables  him  to  throw 
so  fresh  a charm  over  the  well-trodden  ways  of 
Italy,  he  will  even  think  kindly  of  the  critic  who 
has  put  him  upon  the  barb  as  if  he  loved  him. 

So  sure  am  I of  this,  that,  wishing  to  use  him 
again  as  an  eminent  example  of  error,  I shall  bring 
forward  two  other  faults  which  I have  noticed  in  his 
book,  and  in  which  he  is  not  singular  among  Yan- 
kees. There  is  among  some  people  a propensity^ 
which  is  of  late  growth,  and  is  the  fruit  of  presum- 
ing half  knowledge,  to  give  to  adjectives  formed 
participially  from  nouns,  and  to  nouns  used'as  adjec- 
tives, a plural  form,  the  effect  of  which  is  laughably 
pedantic,  as  all  efforts  to  struggle  away  from  simple 
idiom  to  superfine  correctness  are  apt  to  be.  For 
instance,  the  delicious  confection,  calf’s-foot  jelly, 
is  advertised  in  many  confectionary  windows  as 
calves’ -feet  jelly  — the  confectioners  having  been 
troubled  in  their  minds  by  the  reflection  that  there 
went  more  than  one  calf’s  foot  to  the  making  of 
their  jelly.  So  I once  heard  a richly-robed  dame, 
whose  daughter,  named  after  the  goddess  of  wis- 
dom, was  suffering  pangs  that  only  steel  forceps 
could  allay,  say,  with  a little  flourish  of  elegance, 
that  ” M’nervy  was  a martyr  to  the  teethache.”  And 
could  this  gorgeous  goddess-bearer  doubt  that  she 
was  right,  when  she  found  Mr.  Howells  saying  that 
the  peasants  in  Bassano  return  from  their  labor 
” led  in  troops  of  eight  or  ten  by  stalwart,  white- 
*eethed^  bare-legged  maids  !”  She  would  probably 
be  shocked  by  the  bareness  of  the  maidens’  legs, 
but  she  would  glory  in  the  multitudinous  dental 
epithet  which  Mr.  Howells  applies  to  them.  Bui 


SOME  BRITICISMS. 


189 


because  the  most  beautiful  of  the  Nereides  trips 
through  our  memories  as  silver-footed  Thetis,  do 
we,  therefore,  think  of  her  as  a unipede,  a one- 
legged  goddess?  How  would  it  do  for  the  Cam- 
bridge lads  to  translate,  sW^QV-fecied  Thetis?  And 
if  we  have  calvei-feet  jelly,  why  must  not  we,  a 
fortiori^  have  oysters-^^x^  and  ^/^^;;25-pudding?  and 
if  whii^-teethed  maids,  why  not  and, 

above  all,  why  do  we  commit  the  monstrous  ab- 
surdity of  speaking  of  the  numberless  human  race 
as  mankind  instead  of  7nen-k.md}  A noun  used  as 
an  adjective  expresses  an  abstract  idea ; and  when 
by  the  introduction  of  the  plural  form  this  idea  is 
broken  up  into  a collective  multitude  of  individuals, 
it  falls  ludicrously  into  concrete  ruin. 

A like  endeavor  toward  precision  has  led  some 
folk  to  say,  for  instance,  that  a man  was  on  Broad 
way,  or  that  such  and  such  an  event  took  place  on 
Tremont  Street ; and  Mr.  Howells  countenances 
this  folly  by  writing,  ” There  were  a few  people  to 
be  seen  07t  the  street.”  Let  him,  and  all  others  who 
would  not  be  at  once  childish  and  pedantic,  say, 
in  the  street,  in  Broadway,  and  not  be  led  into  the 
folly  of  endeavoring  to  convey  the  notion  that  a man 
was  resting  upon  or  moving  over  an  extended  sur- 
face between  two  lines  of  houses.  A house  itself  is 
m Broadway,  not  on  it ; but  it  may  stand  on  the  line 
of  the  street ; and  an  event  takes  place  in  a certain 
street,  whether  the  actors  are  on  the  pavement  or  on 
the  steps,  or  in  the  balcony  of  a house  in  that  street, 
01  in  the  house  itself.  We  are  in  or  within  a limited 
surface,  but  on  or  upon  one  that  is  without  visible 
boundaries.  Thus,  a man  is  in  a field,  but  on  a 


tpo  # WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

plain.  Some  generations,  at  least,  will  pass  away 
before  a man  shall  appear  who  will  write  plainer, 
simpler,  or  better  English  than  John  Bunyan  wrote  ; 
and  he  makes  Christian  say,  "Apollyon,  beware 
what  you  do,  for  I am  in  the  king’s  highway,” 
There  is  no  telling  into  what  absurdity  these  blind 
gropers  after  precision  will  stumble  when  we  find 
them  deep  in  such  a slough  as  written  over  the  sig-^ 
nature^  fancying  the  while  that  they  stand  on  solid 
ground.  A man’s  signature,  we  are  told, 'is  at  the 
bottom  of  his  letter,  and  therefore  he  writes  over 
the  signature  1 But  — answering  a precisian  ac- 
cording to  his  preciseness  — the  signature  was  not 
there  while  the  man  wrote  the  letter ; it  was  added 
afterward.  How,  then,  was  the  letter  written  over 
the  signature  ? This  is  the  very  lunacy  of  literalism. 
A man  writes  under  a signature  whether  the  signa- 
ture is  at  the  top,  or  the  bottom,  or  in  the  middle  of 
his  letter.  For  instance,  an  old  correspondent  of 
the  New  York  "Times”  writes  under  the  signature 
of  " A Veteran  Observer,”  and  his  letters,  written  sub 
tegmine  fagi^  are  under  the  date  of  "The  Beeches.” 
And  as  they  would  be  under  that  date  whether  it 
were  written  at  the  top,  or,  as  dates  often -are,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  letter,  so  they  are  under  that  signature, 
wherever  on  the  sheet  it  may  be  signed.  A soldier 
or  a sailor  fights  under  a flag,  not,  as  Mr.  Precisian 
would  have  it,  because  the  flag  is  flying  over  his 
head,  but  because  he  is  under  the  authority  which 
that  flag  represents.  Sometimes  he  does  his  figlit- 
ing  above  the  flag,  as  is  often  the  case  with  sharp- 
shooters in  both  army  and  navy;  and  Farragut,  in 
the  futtock  shrouds  of  the  " Hartford,”  fought  the 


SOME  BRITICISMS. 


I9I 

battle  of  Mobile  Bay  as  much  under  the  United 
States  flag  that  floated  ten  or  fifteen  feet  below  him, 
as  if  he  had  issued  his  orders  from  the  bottom  of  thq 
hold.  So  writs  are  issued  under  the  authority  of  a 
court,  although  the  seal  and  the  signature  which 
represent  that  authority  are  at  the  bottom  of  the 
writ ; and  a man  issues  a letter  under  his  signature, 
i,  e.,  with  the  authority  or  attestation  given  by  his 
signature,  whether  the  signature  is  at  top  or  bottom. 
The  use  of  such  a phrase  as  over  the  signature  is 
the  sign  of  a tendency  -which,  if  unchecked,  will 
place  our  language  under  the  formative  influence, 
not  of  those  who  act  instinctively  under  guidance  of 
what  we  call  its  genius,  or  of  scholars  and  men  of 
general  culture,  but  of  those  who  have  least  ability 
to  fashion  it  to  honor  — the  literate  folk  who  know 
too  much  to  submit  to  usage  or  authority,  and  too 
little  rightfully  to  frame  usage  or  to  have  authority 
themselves. 

I shall  notice  only  one  other  bad  example  set  by 
Mr.  Howells,  that  in  the  phrase  "when  we  came  to 
settle  for  the  wine.”  He  meant,  to  pay  for  the  wine, 
that  and  nothing  more.  To  settle  is  to  fix  firmly, 
and  so,  to  adjust ; and  therefore  the  adjusting  of 
accounts  is  well  called,  by  figure,  their  settlement. 
But  the  phrase  to  settle^  meaning  to  pay,  had  better 
be  left  entirely  to  the  use  of  those  sable  messengers, 
rapidly  passing  away,  who  summon  passengers  on 
steamboats  to  "step  up  to  the  cap’n’s  office  and  settle.” 
For  accounts  may  be  settled,  that  is,  they  may  be 
made  clear  and  satisfactory,  — as  the  passenger 
wished  his  cup  of  coffee  to  be  made  when  he  called 
upon  the  negro  to  take  it  to  the  captain’s  office  and 
have  it  settled,  — and  yet  they  may  not  be  paid. 


192 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


To  settle  your  passage  means,  if  it  means  any- 
thing, nothing  more  or  less  than  to  pay  your  fare ; 
and  there  is  no  reason  whatever  for  the  use  of  the 
former  phrase  instead  of  the  latter.  It  displaces 
one  good  word,  and  perverts  another ; while  the 
use  of  settle  without  any  object,  which  is  sometimes 
heard,  as.  Hadn’t  you  better  settle  with  me?  is 
hideous. 

These  four  slips  are  notable  as  being  all  that  I 
remarked  in  reading  ” Italian  Journeys  ” thoroughly 
and  carefully.  There  have  been  very  few  books, 
if  any,  published  on  either  side  of  the  water,  that 
would  not  furnish  more  as  well  as  greater  oppor- 
tunities to  a carping  critic. 

Drive  and  Ride  are  among  the  words  as  to  which 
there  is  a notable  British  affectation.  According  to 
the  present  usage  of  cultivated  society  in  England, 
ride  means  only  to  go  on  horseback,  or  on  the  back 
of  some  beast  less  dignified  and  comfortable,  and 
drive^  o^^ly  to  go  in  a vehicle  which  is  drawn  by 
any  creature  that  is  driven.  This  distinction,  the 
non-recognition  of  which  is  marked  by  cousin  Bull 
as  an  Americanism,  is  quite  inconsistent  with  com- 
mon sense  and  good  English,  and  it  involves  absurd 
contradictions.  Drive  comes  to  us  straight  from 
the  Anglo-Saxon : it  means  to  urge  forward,  to 
expel,  to  eject,  and  Drift  is  simply  that  which  is 
driven.  There  is  no  example  of  any  authority 
earlier  than  this  century  known  to  me,  or  quoted 
by  any  lexicographer,  of  the  use.  of  drive  with  the 
meaning,  to  pass  in  a carriage.  Dr.  Johnson  gives 
that  definition  of  the  word,  but  he  is  able  to  support 
it  only  by  the  following  passages  from  Shakespeare 
and  Milton,  which  are  quite  from  the  purpose  : — 


SOME  BRITICISMS. 


193 


“ There  is  a litter  ready  : lay  him  out, 

And  drive  toward  Dover.”  — K{7ig  Lear. 

“ Thy  foaming  chariot  wheels,  that  shook 
Heaven’s  everlasting  frame,  while  o’er  the  neck 
Thou  drov'st  of  warring  ungels  disarrayed.” 

Paradise  Lost. 

In  the  first  of  these  the  person  addressed  is 
merely  ordered  to  drive  or  urge  forward  his  car- 
riage to  Dover  ; in  the  second,  Jehovah  is  represented 
as  urging  the  wheels  of  his  war  chariot  over  his 
fallen  enemies.  There  is  not  a suggestion  or  im- 
plication of  the  thought  that  drive  in  either  case 
means  to  pass  in  any  way,  or  means  anything  else 
than  to  urge  onward.  Dr.  Johnson  might  as  well 
have  quoted  from  the  account  in  Exodus  of  the  pas- 
sage of  the  Red  Sea,  that  the  Lord  took  oft'  the  char- 
iot wheels  of  the  Egyptians,  that  ” they  drave  them 
heavily.”  Drive  means  only  to  force  on  ; but  ride 
means,  and  always  has  meant,  to  be  borne  up  and 
along,  as  on  a beast,  a bird,  a chariot,  a wagon,  or 
a rail.  We  have  seen  that  Shakespeare,  and  Mil- 
ton,  and  the  translators  of  the  Bible  use  drive  in 
connection  with  chariot  when  they  wish  to  express 
the  urging  it  along  ; but  when  they  wish  to  say  that 
a man  is  borne  up  and  onward  in  a chariot,  they 
use  ride. 

“And  Pharaoh  made  him  [Joseph]  to  ride  in  the  second 
chariot  which  he  had.”  — Genesis  xii.  43. 

“And  I will  overthrow  the  chariots  and  those  that  ride  in 
them ; and  the  horses  and  their  riders  shall  come  down,  every 
one  by  the  sword  of  his  brother.”  — Haggai  ii.  22. 

“ So  Jehu  rode  in  a chariot,  and  went  to  Jezreel.  . . . And 

the  watchman  told,  saying,  He  came  even  unto  them,  and  cometh 
not  again ; and  the  driving  is  like  the  driving  of  Jehu  the  son 
of  Nimshi;  for  he  driveth  furiously.”  — 2 Kings  ix.  16,  20. 

13 


194 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES* 


In  these  passages  drive  and  ride  are  used  in 
what  is  their  proper  sense,  and  has  been  since  long 
before  the  days  of  the  Heptarchy,  and  as  they  are 
used  now  in  New  England.  And  yet  only  a few 
days  since,  as  I spoke  of  riding  to  a British  friend, 
he  said  to  me,  pleasantly,  but  with  the  air  of  a polite 
teacher,  "You  use  that  word  differently  to  what 
we  do.  We  ride  on  horseback,  but  we  drive  in  a 
carriage ; now,  I have  noticed  that  you  ride  in  a 
carriage.”  "The  distinction  seems  to  be,  then,”  I 
replied,  "that  when  you  are  on  an  animal,  you 
ride,  and  when  you  are  in  a vehicle,  you  drive.” 
"Exactly;  don’t  you  see?  quite  so.”  "Well,  then” 
(we  were  in  Broadway),  "if  you  had  come  down 
from  the  Clarendon  in  that  omnibus,  you  would  say 
that  you  drove  down,  or,  if  you  went  from  one  place 
to  another  in  a stage  coach,  that  you  drove  there.” 
"’M  ! ah  ! no,  not  exactly.  You  know  one  rides  in 
a ’bus  or  a stage  coach,  but  one  drives  in  one’s  own 
carriage  or  in  a private  vehicle.”  I did  not  answer 
him.  Our  British  cousins  will  ere  long  see  the  in- 
correctness of  this  usage  and  its  absurd  incongruity, 
and  will  be  able  to  say,  for  instance,  — for  are  they 
not  of  English  blood  and  speech  as  well  as  we?  — 
We  all  rode  down  from  home  in  the  old  carryall 
to  meet  you,  and  John  drove.  But  if  they  insist,  in 
such  a case,  upon  saying  that  they  all  drove,  we 
shall  have  reason  to  suspect  that  there  is  at  least  the 
beginning  of  a new  language,  — the  British,  — and 
that  the  English  tongue  and  English  senile  has  fled 
to  the  Yankees  across  the  sea. 

Right. — A Briticism  in  the  use  of  this  word  is 
^reeping  in  among  us.  It  is  used  to  mean  obliga 


SOME  BRITICISMS. 


195 


tion,  duty.  On  one  of  those  celebrations  of  St. 
Patrick’s  day  in  the  city  of  New  York,  when,  in 
token  of  the  double  nationality  of  its  governing 
classes,  the  City  Hall  is  decorated  with  the  Irish 
and  the  United  States  flag,  and  miles  of  men,  each 
one  like  the  other,  and  all  wearing  stove-pipe  hats 
and  green  scarfs,  are  allowed  to  take  possession  of 
its  great  thoroughfares,  in  acknowledgement  of  the 
large  share  which  their  forefathers  took  for  two 
hundred  and  fifty  years  in  framing  our  government 
and  establishing  our  society  upon  those  truly  Irish 
principles  of  constitutional  liberty  and  law  which 
are  the  glory  and  the  safeguard  of  our  country,  and 
in  acknowledgement,  also,  of  that  devotion  to  the 
great  cause  of  religious  freedom  which  brought 
those  Celtic  pilgrims  to  our  shores  — on  one  of  those 
occasions  I heard  an  alien  creature,  a Yankee,  who 
had  presumed  to  drive  out  jauntily  in  a wagon  on 
that  sacred  and  solemn  day,  and  who  ventured  to  be 
somewhat  displeased  because  he  had  been  detained 
three  quarters  of  an  hour  lest  he  should  break  the 
irregularity  of  that  line,  and  interrupt  his  masters’ 
pleasure  — I heard  this  Yankee  say  to  the  police- 
men, as  he  saw  the  Fourth  Avenue  cars  allowed  to 
pursue  their  course  (probably  because  it  was  thought 
they  might  contain  some  of  the  females  of  the  dom- 
inant race),  "What  do  you  stop  me  for?  The  cars 
have  as  good  a right  to  be  stopped  as  the  carriages.” 
This  was  unpleasant.  That  he  should  have  stood 
humbly  before  his  masters,  having  put  a ballot  into 
their  hands  with  which  to  break  his  back,  was  a 
small  matter ; but  of  his  language  he  should  have 
been  ashamed.  He  could  not  have  spoken  worse 


196  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

English  if  he  were  a Cockney ; and  from  some 
Cockney  he  must  have  caught  this  trick,  which, 
common  enough  for  a long  while  among  British 
speakers,  and  even  writers  of  a low  order,  has  been 
heard  here  only  within  a few  years.  He  meant  that 
carriages  had  as  good  a right  as  cars  to  go  07t  with- 
out interruption,  and  that  the  cars  had  as  much 
obligation  to  stop  as  the  carriages.  A right  is  an 
incorporeal,  rightful  possession,  and,  consequently, 
something  of  value,  which  we  strive  to  get  and  to 
keep,  except  always  when  it  is  claimed  from  us  in 
the  name  of  the  patron  saint  Patrick,  of  the  great 
State  and  the  great  city  of  our  country.  Death  is 
the  legal  punishment  of  certain  felonies.  But  w^e 
do  not  speak  of  the  murderer’s  right  of  being 
hanged.  Yet  in  case  of  a choice  of  two  modes  of 
death,  we  should  use  the  word,  and  speak,  for  in- 
stance, of  the  soldier’s  right  to  be  shot  rather  than 
hanged. 

Sick  and  III  are  two  other  words  that  have  been 
perverted  in  general  British  usage.  Almost  all 
British  speakers  and  writers  limit  the  meaning  of 
sick  to  the  expression  of  qualmishness,  sickness  at 
the  stomach,  nausea,  and  lay  the  proper  burden  of 
the  adjective  sick  upon  the  adverb  ill.  They  sneer 
at  us  for  not  joining  in  the  robbery  and  the  impo- 
sition. I was  present  once  when  a British  merchant, 
receiving  in  his  own  house  a Yankee  youth  at  a 
little  party,  said,  in  a tone  that  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  whole  room,  ” Good  evening!  We 
haven’t  seen  you  for  a long  while.  Have  you  been 
secck^^  (the  sneer  prolonged  the  word),  "as  you 
Bay  in  your  country?”  "No,  thank  you,”  said  the 


SOME  BRITICISMS. 


197 


Other,  frankly  and  promptly,  "I’ve  been  hill^  as  they 
say  in  yours.”  John  Bull,  although  he  blushed  to 
the  forehead,  had  the  good  sense,  if  not  the  good 
nature,  to  join  in  the  laugh  that  followed  ; but  I am 
inclined  to  think  that  he  never  ran  another  tilt  in 
that  quarter.  As  to  the  sense  in  which  sick  is  used 
by  the  best  English  writers,  there  can  be,  of  course, 
no  dispute  ; but  I have  seen  this  set  down  in  a British 
critical  journal  of  high  class  as  an  "obsolete  sense.” 
It  is  not  obsolete  even  in  modern  British  usage. 
The  Birmingham  "Journal”  of  August  29,  1869, 
informs  its  readers  that,  "The  Sick  Club  question 
has  given  rise  to  another  batch  of  letters  from  local 
practitioners  of  medicine  ; ” Mrs.  Massingberd  pub- 
lishes "Sickness,  its  Trials  and  Blessings”  (Lon- 
don, 1868)  ; and  a letter  before  me,  from  a London 
woman  to  a friend,  says,  " I am  truly  sorry  to  hear 
you  are  so  very  sick.  Do  make  haste  and  get  well.” 
One  of  Matthew  Arnold’s  poems  is  "The  Sick 
King  in  Bokara,”  in  which  are  these  lines: 

“ O,  King  thou  know’st  I have  been  sick 
These  many  days,  and  heard  no  thing.” 

British  officers  have  sick  leave ; British  invalids 
keep  a sick  bed,  or  a sick  room,  and  so  forth,  no 
matter  what  their  ailment.  No  one  of  them  ever 
speaks  of  ill  leave,  an  ill  room,  or  an  ill  bed.  Was 
an  111  Club  ever  heard  of  in  England?  The  incon- 
gruity is  apparent,  and  it  is  new-born  and  needless. 
For  the  use  of  ill — an  adverb  — as  an  adjective, 
thus,  an  ill  man,  there  is  no  defence  and  no  ex- 
cuse, except  the  contamination  of  bad  example. 

Stop  for  stay  is  a Briticism;  e,  ^.,  "stop  at 
’ome.”  To  stop  is  to  arrest  motion;  to  stay  is  to 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


198 

remain  where  motion  is  arrested.  “ I shall  stop  at 
the  Clarendon,”  sa3^s  our  British  friend  — one  of  the 
sort  that  does  not  “ stop  at  ’ome.”  And  he  will 
quite  surely  stop  there;  but  after  he  has  stopped, 
whether  he  stays  there,  and  how  long,  depend  upon 
Circumstances.  A railway  train  stops  at  many  sta- 
tions, but  it  stays  only  at  one. 

Nasty.  — This  word,  at  best  not  well  suited  to 
dainty  lips,  is  of  late  years  shockingly  misused  by 
British  folk  who  should  be  ashamed  of  such  defiled 
English.  Thus  we  read  in  the  Saturday  Review 
or  the  Spectator  of  Mr.  Disraeli’s  or  Mr.  Bernal 
Osborne’s  making  “ a nasty  retort';  ” meaning  that 
the  rejoinder  was  ill-natured  or  irritating.  And  in 
Miss  Broughton’s  last  novel,  “ Good-bye,  Sweet- 
heart,” the  same  misuse  occurs  in  more  than  one 
passage.  For  example: 

“ Fiddlesticks,”  replies  Scrope,  brusquely,  “ a man  to  throw  a 
girl  over  to  whom  he  is  passionately  attached,  because  she  says  a 
few  nasty  things  to  him  ; more  especially  (smiling  a little  mali- 
ciously) when  she  has  got  into  a habit  of  saying  nasty  things  to 
everybody.”  Part  2,  Chap.  9. 

Miss  Broughton  reproduces  the  daily  talk  of  the 
cultivated  people  for  whom  she  writes.  But  could 
there  be  better  reason  for  a man’s  throwing  a girl 
over  than  her  saying  nasty  things  ? For  hardly 
three  other  English  words  are  so  nearly  the  same 
in  meaning  as  dirty,  filthy,  and  nasty  ; of  which  the 
last  expresses  the  greatest  offence  to  all  the  senses — ■ 
the  quality  and  condition  of  moist  and  generally 
Ul-smelling  filth.  This  slangy  misuse  of  the  word 
Is  rarely  or  never  heard  in  the  United  States. 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


199 


CHAPTER  VIL 

WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 

WHAT  is  a word?  Every  one  knows.  The 
most  ignorant  child,  if  it  can  speak,  needs  no 
definition  of  word.  Probably  no  other  word  in  the 
language  is  so  rarely  referred  to  in  dictionaries. 
Until  I began  to  write  this  chapter,  and  had  framed 
a definition  of  word  for  myself,  I had  never  seen  or 
heard  one,  that  I remember.  Yet,  if  any  reader  will 
shut  this  book  here,  and  try  to  tell  exactly  what  a 
word  is,  and  write  down  his  definition  before  he 
opens  the  book  again,  he  may  find  that  the  task  is 
not  so  easy  as  he  may  have  supposed  it  to  be.  Dr. 
Johnson’s  definition  is,  ” a single  part  of  speech,”  at 
the  limited  view  and  schoolmasterish  style  of  which 
we  may  be  inclined  at  first  to  smile.  Richardson’s 
first  definition  is,  " anything  spoken  or  told.”  But 
this  applies  equally  to  a speech  or  a story.  His 
second  is,  "an  articulate  utterance  of  the  voice,’* 
which  is  really  the  same  as  Worcester’s,  "an  artic 
ulate  sound.”  But  this  will  not  do  ; for  hacloml^ivit 
is  an  articulate  sound,  but  it  is  not  a word,  and  I 
hope  never  will  be  one  in  my  language ; and  I and 
you  are  not  articulate  sounds,  and  yet  they  are 
words.  Webster’s  definition  is,  — 

"An  articulate  or  vocal  sound,  or  a combination 


200 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


of  articulate  and  vocal  sounds,  uttered  by  the  human 
voice,  and  by  custom  expressing  an  idea  or  ideas. 

Here  plainly,  fulness  and  accuracy  of  definition 
have  been  sought,  but  they  have  not  been  attained. 
The  definition,  considering  its  design,  is  superflu- 
ous, inexact,  and  incomplete.  The  whole  of  the 
first  part  of  it,  making  a distinction  between  articu- 
late and  vocal  sounds,  and  between  such  sounds 
and  a combination  of  them,  is  needless  and  from 
the  purpose.  The  latter  part  of  the  definition  uses 
custom  vaguely,  and  in  the  word  idea  fails  to  in- 
clude all  that  is  required. 

A word  is,  an  utterance  of  the  human  voice 
which  in  any  community  expresses  a thought  or  a 
thing.  If  there  is  a village  or  a hamlet  where  ao 
expresses  I love,  or  any  other  thought,  and  babo 
means  bread,  or  anything  else,  then  for  that  com- 
munity ao  and  babo  are  words.  But  words,  gen- 
erally, are  utterances  which  express  thoughts  or 
things  to  a race,  a people.  Custom  is  not  an  es- 
sential condition  of  wordship.  Howells,  in  one  of 
his  letters  (Book  I.  Letter  12),  says  of  an  Italian 
town,  "There  are  few  places  this  side  the  Alps 
better  built  and  so  well  strceted  as  this.”'  Strectcd 
was  probably  never  used  before,  and  has  probably 
never  been  used  since  Howells  used  it,  two  hundred 
and  forty  years  ago.  But  it  expressed  his  thought 
perfectly  then  to  all  English-speaking  people,  and 
does  so  now,  and  is  a participial  adjective  correctly 
formed.  It  is  unknown  to  custom,  but  it  has  all 
the  conditions  of  wordship,  and  is  a much  better 
English  word  than  very  many  in  "Webster’s  Dic- 
tionary.” And,  after  all,  Johnson’s  definition  cov' 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


201 


ers  the  ground.  We  must  dismiss  from  our  minds 
our  grammar-class  notion  of  a sort  of  things,  prep- 
ositions, nouns,  adverbs,  and  articles,  the  name^ 
of  which  is  part-of-speech,  and  think  of  a single 
part  of  speech.  Whatever  is  a single  part  of  any 
speech  is  a word. 

But  as  there  are  books  that  are  not  books,  so 
there  are  words  that  are  not  words.  Most  of  them 
are  usurpers,  interlopers,  or  vulgar  pretenders ; 
some  are  deformed  creatures,  with  only  half  a life  in 
them ; but  some  of  them  are  legitimate  enough  in 
their  pretensions,  although  oppressive,  intolerable, 
useless.  Words  that  are  not  words  sometimes  die 
spontaneously  ; but  many  linger,  living  a precarious 
life  on  the  outskirts  of  society,  uncertain  of  their 
position,  and  a cause  of  great  discomfort  to  all  right 
thinking,  straightforward  people. 

These  words-no-words  are  in  many  cases  the 
consequence  of  a misapprehension  or  whimsical 
perversion  of  some  real  word.  Sitting  at  dinner 
beside  a lady  whom  it  was  always  a pleasure  to 
look  upon,  I offered  her  a croquette,  which  she  de- 
clined, adding,  in  a confidential  whisper,  “ I am 
Banting.”  I turned  with  surprise  in  my  face*  (for  she 
had  no  likeness  to  the  obese  London  upholsterer,) 
and  heard  the  naif  confession  that  she  lived  in  daily 
fear  lest  the  polished  plumpness  which  so  delighted 
my  eye  should  develop  into  corpulence,  and  that 
therefore  she  had  adopted  Banting’s  system  of  diet, 
the  doing  of  which  she  expressed  by  the  grotesque 
participle  banting.  She  was  not  alone  in  its  use,  I 
soon  learned.  And  thus,  because  a proper  name 
happened  to  end  in  ing,  it  was  used  as  a participle 


202 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


formed  upon  the  assumed  verb  hunt.  In  fact,  I have 
since  that  time  often  heard  intelligent  women, 
speaking  without  the  slightest  intention  of  pleas- 
antry, and  in  entire  simplicity  and  unconsciousness, 
say  of  one  or  another  of  their  friends,  "O,  she 
dants,'^  or  " She  has  banted  these  two  years  to  keep 
herself  down.”  The  next  edition  of  ^'Webster’s 
Dictionary”  will  probably  contain  a new  verb  — 
jBant,  to  eschew  fat-producing  food. 

Another  example  of  this  mode  of  forming  words 
is  afforded  by  the  following  political  advertisement, 
which  I found  in  a Brooklyn  newspaper: — 

“Notice. — I am  intercessed  by  Mr.  and  certain  of  his 

friends  to  withdraw  my  claims  for  the  supervisorship  of  this  Ward. 
I have  only  to  say  to  the  citizens  of  the  13th  that  I run  for  the 
office  upon  the  recommendation  and  support  of  many  influential 
citizens,  amounting  to  me  as  much  as  is  claimed  by  the  so-called 
regularly  nominated  candidate.  I shall  run  for  the  office  as 
Democratic  Supervisor,  despite  intercessions  or  browbeating, 
and  if  elected  shall  make  it  my  sole  duty  to  attend  to  the  inter 
ests  of  property-holders  and  rights  of  the  country. 

J S K G.” 


I have  given  the  advertisement  entire,  because 
it  shows  that  the  writer  is  a man  of  intelligence  and 
some  education  ; and  yet  such  a man  not  only  sup- 
poses that  intercession  means  simply  entreaty,  — 
losing  sight  entirely  of  the  vicarious  signification 
which  is  its  essential  significance  (its  primitive 
meaning  being,  going  between), — but  that  it  is 
from  a verb  interccss ; or  else  he  boldly  forms  in^ 
ter  cess  from  intercession,  and  uses  it  apparently 
without  the  least  hesitation  or  compunction.  His 
honesty  of  purpose  should  win  him  forgiveness  for 
, less  venial  errors ; but  at  this  rate,  and  with  this 
^style  of  word-formation,  where  shall  we  stop?  For 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


203 


mt€7‘cess^  although  it  is  yet  rather  raw  and  new,  is 
as  good  a word  as  others  which  are  in  not  infre- 
quent use  among  people  of  no  less  intelligence  and^ 
general  information  than  his.  In  this  chapter  some 
of  these  words  will  be  examined,  and  also  some 
others  against  which  purism  has  raised  objections 
which  do  not  seem  to  be  well  taken. 

Adjectives  are  used  as  substantives  with  clear- 
ness and  force  when  they  thus  give  substantive 
form  to  an  abstract  quality,  as.  Seek  the  good, 
eschew  the  evil ; the  excellent  of  the  earth ; speak 
well  of  the  dead.  But  the  use  of  the  adjective  part 
of  a compound-designating  phrase  as  a noun  is  to 
be  avoided  upon  peril  of  vulgarity  and  absurdity, 
and  generally  produces  a word-no-word  of  the  most 
monstrous  and  ridiculous  sort.  For  example,  a 
large  gilded  sign  in  Wall  Street  announces  that 
Messrs.  A & B are  " Dealers  in  Governments ; ” 
but  if  any  gentleman  in  want  of  the  articles  should 
step  in  and  ask  to  be  supplied  with  a republic  and 
two  monarchies,  he  would  then  probably  learn  that 
Messrs.  A & B dealt  not  in  governments,  but  in 
government  securities.  In  like  manner  the  editor 
of  a Southern  paper,  carried  out  of  the  orbit  of  high 
journalistic  reserve  by  the  attractions  of  two  ladies 
unknown  to  fame,  begins  thus  an  article  in  their 
glory : — 

“ For  the  first  time  during  the  existence  of  this  paper  we 
notice  a theatrical  representation  editorialh'.  We  gener.illy 
leave  that  matter  to  our  locals ; but  really  the  Worral  sis- 
ters   ! ” 

What  " a local  ” is  might  well  puzzle  any  reader 
vvhu  had  not  the  technical  knowledge  that  would 


204 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


enable  him  to  see  that  it  is  " short  ” for  local  re- 
porter ^ itself  an  incorrect  name  for  a reporter  of 
local  news.  Beguiling  the  time  by  reading  the  ad- 
vertising cards  in  a railway  station  where  I awaited 
a belated  train,  my  eye  was  caught  by  the  following 
sentence  in  one  of  them  : — 

“ The  Southern  States  is  without  exception  the  most  com- 
plete six-hole  premium  ever  made.” 

What  a premium  was  I knew,  but  a six-hole  pre- 
mium, and,  still  more,  a complete  six-hole  premium, 
was  beyond  the  range  even  of  my  conjecture,  un- 
less, perhaps,  it  might  be  a flute  given  as  a reward 
of  merit.  But,  reading  farther,  I found  that  the 
advertisers  called  public  attention  not  only  to  their 
Southern  States,  but  to  their  "Dixie  for  wood,  with 
extended  fire-box.  A perfect  premium  ! ” This, 
and  the  wood-cut  of  a cooking  stove,  led  me  step 
by  step  to  the  apprehension  of  the  fact  that  these  in- 
ventors in  language,  as  well  as  in  household  articles, 
had  produced  a utensil  for  the  kitchen,  which,  hav- 
ing received  a premium  for  it,  they  called,  rightly 
enough,  their  premium  stove ; and  that  thereafter 
they  called  their  stoves,  and  perhaps  all  other  good 
stoves,  if  any  others  than  theirs  could  be  good,  pre- 
miums^ and  consequently  the  best  and  largest  of 
them  all  a complete  six-hole  premium.  The  height 
of  absurdity  which  they  thus  reached  is  a sufficient 
warning,  without  further  remark,  against  the  sub- 
stantive use  of  adjectives  of  which  they  furnished 
so  bewildering  an  example. 

Authoress,  Poetess. — These  words  and  oth- 
ers of  their  sort  have  been  condemned  by  writers 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


205 


for  whose  taste  and  judgement  I have  great  respect ; 
but  although  the  words  are  not  very  lovely,  it  would 
seem  that  their  right  to  a place  in  the  language^ 
cannot  be  denied.  The  distinction  of  the  female 
from  the  male  by  the  termination  ess  is  one  of  the 
oldest  and  best-established  usages  of  English  speech. 
Alistress^  goddess^  -prioress^  deaconess,  shepherd- 
css,  heiress,  sempstress,  traitress  are  examples  that 
will  occur  to  every  reader.  Sir  Thomas  Chaloner, 
in  his  translation  of  Erasmus’s  "Praise  of  Folly” 
(an  excellent  piece  of  English)  makes  a feminine 
noun,  and  a good  one,  by  adding  ess  to  a verb  — 
foster. 

“ Further,  as  concernyng  my  bringynge  up,  I am  not  envious 
that  Jupiter,  the  great  god,  had  a goat  to  his  fostress.” 

Gower  says  that  Clytemnestra  was  "of  her  own 
lord  mordricei^  Fuller  uses  biiildrcss  and  mtru- 
dress.  Sir  Philip  Sidney  captainess,  Holland  (Plu- 
tarch) fattress,  Sylvester  sovcraintess,  and  Ben 
Jonson  victress.  And  could  we  afford  to  lose 
Milton’s 

“ Thee,  ckanntress,  oft  the  woods  among 
I woo,  to  hear  thy  even  song  ”? 

Indeed,  these  examples  and  this  defence  seem 
quite  superffuous.  There  can  be  no  reasonable 
objection  made,  only  one  of  individual  taste,  to 
actress,  authoress,  poetess,  and  even  to  sculptress 
and  pain  tress. 

Donate.  — I need  hardly  say,  that  this  word  is 
utterly  abominable  — one  that  any  lover  of  simple 
honest  English  cannot  hear  with  patience  and  with- 
out offence.  It  has  been  formed  by  some  presum- 
ing and  ignorant  person  from  donation,  and  is 


2o6 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


much  such  a word  as  vacate  would  be  from  voca* 
lion^  orate  from  oration^  or  gradate  from  grada~ 
tion  ; and  this  when  we  have  give,  'present^  grant 
confer^  endow ^ bequeath^  devise^  with  which  to 
express  the,  act  of  transferring  possession  in  all  its 
possible  varieties.  The  first  of  these  will  answer 
the  purpose,  in  most  cases,  better  than  any  one  of 
the  others,  and  donation  itself  is  not  among  out 
best  words.  If  any  man  thinks  that  he  and  his  gift 
are  made  to  seem  more  imposing  because  the  latter 
is  called  a donation,  which  he  donates,  let  him 
remember  that  when  Antonio  requires  that  the 
wealthy  Shylock  shall  leave  all  he  dies  possessed 
of  to  Lorenzo  and  Jessica,  he  stipulates  that  "he 
do  record  a gift”  of  it,  and  that  Portia,  in  conse- 
quence, says,  "Clerk,  draw  a deed  of  gift;”  and 
more,  that  the  writers  of  the  simplest  and  noblest 
English  that  has  been  written  called  the  Omnipo- 
tent "the  Giver  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift.” 
But  there  "are  some  folk  who  would  like  to  call 
him  the  Great  Donater  because  he  donates  every 
good  and  perfect  donation.  If  they  must  express 
giving  by  an  Anglicized  form  of  the  Latin  do7io,  it 
were  better  that  they  used  do7iation  as  a verb.  So 
Cotton  writes  (Montaigne’s  Essays,  1.  359),  "They 
used  to  collation  between  meals.”  This  is  better 
than  "They  used  to  collate  between  meals.” 

Enquire,  Enclose,  Endorse. — These  words 
have  been  condemned  by  some  writers  on  the 
ground  that  they  are  respectively  from  the  Latin 
inquiro^  tncludo,  and  m dorsmn,  and  should,  there- 
fore, be  written  inquire^  inclose^  and  mdorse.  This 
is  an  error.  They  are,  to  be  sure,  of  Latin  origin, 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


207 


but  remotely  ; they  come  to  us  directly  from  the  old 
French  cnquerre^  enclos,  and  endorser.  For  cen- 
turies they  appear  in  our  literature  with  the  prefix^ 
en.  That  Johnson  gives  this  class  of  words  with 
the  prefix  in  must  be  attributed  to  a tendency, 
not  uncommon,  but  not  healthy,  to  follow  words 
of  Norman  or  French  origin  back  to  their  Latin 
roots,  and  to  adopt  a spelling  in  conformity  to  these, 
in  preference  to  that  which  pertains  to  them  as  rep- 
resentatives of  an  important  and  inherent  element 
in  the  formation  of  the  English  language.  The 
best  lexicographers  and  philologists  now  discour- 
age this  tendency,  and  adhere  to  the  forms  which 
pertain  to  the  immediate  origin  of  derived  words. 
But  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  class  of  words  in 
question  is  notably  defiant  of  analogy,  and  very 
much  in  need  of  regulation.  For  instance,  enquire^ 
enquiry,)  inquest,)  inquisition.  No  one  would  think 
of  writing  enquest  and  enquisition.  The  discre- 
pancy is  of  long  standing,  and  must  be  borne,  except 
by  those  who  choose  to  avoid  it  by  writing  inquire 
for  the  sake  of  uniformity ; condemnation  of  which 
may  be  left  to  purists. 

Enthused. — This  ridiculous  word  is  an  Ameri- 
canism in  vogue  in  the  southern  part  of  the  United 
States.  I never  heard  or  saw  it  used,  or  heard  of 
its  use,  by  any  person  born  and  bred  north  of  the 
Potomac.  The  Baltimore  American”  furnishes 
the  following  example  of  its  use  : — 

“ It  seems  that  this  State,  so  quickly  enthused  by  the  generous 
and  loyal  cause  of  emancipation,  has  grown  weary  of  virtuous 
effort,  and  again  stands  still.” 

I shall  not  conceal  the  fact  that  the  following 


2o8 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


defence  might  be  set  up,  but  not  fairly,  for  en- 
thuse. EvOovautaiJog  (^E^ithousiasmos')  was  formed 
by  the  Greeks  from  {jenthous')^  a contracted 

form  of  s.}>dv-.og  (ejitheos),  meaning  in  or  with  God, 
i.  c.,  divinely  inspired.  From  the  Greek  adjective 
enthous^  an -English  verb,  enthuse  might  be  properly 
formed.  But,  v/ith  no  disrespect  to  Southern  schol- 
arship, we  may  safely  say  that  enthuse  was  not  made 
b}'  the  illogical  process  of  going  to  the  Greek  root 
. of  a Greek  word  from  which  an  English  noun  had 
already  been  formed.  It  was  plainly  reached  by 
the  backward  process  of  making  some  kind  of  verb 
from  the  noun  enthusiasm^  as  donate  was  formed 
from  donation.  If  our  Southern  friends  must  have 
a new  word  to  express  the  agitation  of  soul  to  which 
this  one  would  seem  to  indicate  that  they  are 
peculiarly  subject,  let  them  say  that  they  are  en- 
thusiasmed.  The  French,  who  have  the  word  en- 
thousiasme^  have  also  the  verb  enthousiasmer,  and, 
of  course,  the  perfect  participle  enthousiasme , en- 
thusiasmed,  which  are  correctly  formed.  But  while 
we  have  such  words  as  stirred^  aroused^  inspired^ 
excited.^  transported^  ravished.,  intoxicated.,  is  it 
worth  while  to  go  farther  and  fare  worse  for  such  a 
word  as  enthused.,  or  even  enthusiasmedl 

&c.  &c.  — This  convenient  sign  is  very  frequently 
read  "and  so  forth,  and  so  forth  ; ” and  what  is  worse, 
many  persons  who  read  it  properly,  ct  cetera.,  regard 
it  and  use  it  as  a more  elegant  equivalent  of  " and 
so  forth ; ” but  it  is  no  such  thing.  Et  cetera  is 
merely  Latin  for  and  the  rest,  and  is  properly 
used  in  schedules  or  statements  after  an  account 
given  of  particular  things,  to  include  other  thing* 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS.  209 

too  unimportant  and  too  numerous  for  particular 
mention.  But  the  phrase  and  so  forth  has  quite  an- 
other meaning,  i,  e,^  and  as  before  so  after,  in  the^ 
same  strain.  It  implies  the  continuation  of  a story 
in  accordance  with  the  beginning.  Sometimes  the 
story  is  actually  continued  in  the  relation,  at  other 
times  it  is  not.  Thus  we  may  say.  And  so  forth  he 
told  him  — thus  and  so ; or,  after  the  relation  of  the 
main  part  of  a story  we  may  add.  And  so  forth; 
meaning  that  matters  went  on  thereafter  as  before. 
This  phrase  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  useful  in 
the  language.  Gower  thus  used  it  in  his  "Confessio 
Amantis,”  written  nearly  six  hundred  years  ago  : — 

“ So  as  he  mighte  [he]  tolde  tho  [then]  * 

Unto  Ulixes  all  the  cas, 

How  that  Circes  his  moder  was, 

And  so  forth  said  him  every  dele 
How  that  his  moder  grete  him  wele.” 

Fellowship  used  as  a verb  (for  example,  " An 
attempt  to  disfcUowshif  an  evil,  but  to  fellowship 
the  evil-doer”)  is  an  abomination  which  has  been 
hitherto  regarded  as  of  American  origin.  It  is 
not  often  heard  or  written  among  people  whose 
language  is  in  other  respects  a fair  example  of 
the  English  spoken  in  ''  America ; ” but  Mr.  Bart- 
lett justly  says  in  his  ''  Dictionary  of  American- 
isms” (a  useful  and  interesting,  although  a very 
misleading  book),  that  it  "appears  with  disgusting 
frequency  in  the  reports  of  ecclesiastical  conven- 
tions, and  in  the  religious  newspapers  generally.” 
The  conventions,  however,  and  the  newspapers  are 
those  of  the  least  educated  sects.  To  this  use  of 
fellowship  it  would  be  a perfect  parallel  to  say  that, 
H 


210 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


fifteen  years  ago,  the  mcnarchs  of  Europe  would  not 
kingski/p  with  Louis  Napoleon.  There  is  no  excuse 
of  need  for  the  bringing  in  of  this  barbarism.  Fel- 
low^ like  mate^  may  be  used  as  a verb  as  well  as  a 
noun  ; and  it  is  as  well  to  say,  I will  not  fellow  with 
him, as  I will  not  mate  with  him.  The  authority  ol 
eminent  example  is  not  needed  for  such  a use  of fel- 
low; but  those  who  feel  the  want  of  it  may  find  it 
in  Shakespeare’s  plays  and  in  " Piers  Ploughman’s 
Vision”  by  referring  to  Johnson’s  and  Richardson’s 
dictionaries,  in  both  of  which  fellow  is  given  as  a 
verb.  Words  ending  in  ship  express  a condition 
or  state,  and  fellowship  means  the  condition  or  state 
of  those  who  are  fellows,  or  who  fellow  with  each 
other.  But  the  use  of  this  word  as  a verb  did  not 
begin  in  " America ; ” witness  the  following  pas- 
sages from  the  ” Morte  d’Arthur  : — 

“ How  Sjr  Galahad  faught  wjth  Sjr  Tristram,  and  how 
Sjr  tristram  jelded  hjm  and  promjsed  to  felamhyp  with  lance- 
lot.” 

“And,  sire,  I promjse  you,  said  Sir  Tristram,  as  soone  as  I 
may  I will  see  Sir  launcelot,  and  enfelauship  me  with  hym,  for 
of  alle  the  knyghtes  of  the  world  I moost  desyre  his  felauship.” 

“ Morte  d’Artkur,”  Ed.  Southey,  Vol.  I.  pp.  xix.  287. 

This  was  written  A.  D.  1469,  and  the  verbs  fel- 
lowship and  enfellowship  were  reprinted  in  all 
editions,  notwithstanding  numerous  and  important 
modernizations  and  corrections  of  the  text,  down  to 
that  of  1634,  which  Mr.  Wright  has  made  the 
basis  of  his  excellent  edition  of  1858.  If  the  word 
could  be  justified  by  origin  and  use,  is  has  them, 
of  sufficient  antiquity  and  high  authority.  And 
as  to  its  being  an  Americanism,  it  was  in  use, 
’ike  many  other  words,  so-called,  before  Columbus 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


2II 


set  sail  on  the  voyage  that  ended  in  the  unexpected 
discovery  of  the  new  continent. 

Forward,  Upward,  Downward,  Toward,  and* 
other  compounds  of  ward  (which  is  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  suflix  weard^  meaning  in  the  direction  of^ 
over  against),  have  been  written  also  Jvrwards^ 
upwards ^ and  so  forth,  from  a period  of  remote 
antiquity,  extending  even  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  form 
of  the  language.  But  there  seems  hardly  a doubt 
that  the  5 is  a corruption  as  well  as  a superfluity. 
The  weight  of  the  best  usage  is  on  the  side  of  the 
form  without  the  5.  ” Speak  to  Israel  that  they  go 

forward'"  (Exodus  xiv.  15.)  "For  we  will  not 
inherit  with  them  on  yonder  side  Jordan,  or  for- 
ward; because  our  inheritance  is  fallen  to  us  on 
this  side  Jordan  eastward,"  (Numbers  xxxii.  19.) 
No  reason  can  be  given  for  using  forwards  and  back- 
wards  which  would  not  apply  to  eastwards  and  west- 
wards^ which  no  one  thinks  of  using.  Granting  that 
both  forms  are  correct,  the  avoiding  of  the  hissing 
termination,  which  is  one  of  the  few  reproaches  of 
our  language,  is  a good  reason  for  adhering  to  the 
simple,  unmodified  compound  in  ward, 

Gent  and  Pants.  — Let  these  words  go  together, 
like  the  things  they  signify.  The  one  always  wears 
the  other. 

Gubernatorial.  — This  clumsy  piece  of  verbal 
pomposity  should  be  thrust  out  of  use,  and  that 
speedily.  While  the  chief  officers  of  States  are 
called  governors,  and  not  gubernators,  we  may 
better  speak  of  the  governor’s  house  and  of  the  gov- 
ernor’s room,  than  of  the  gubernatorial  mansion  and 
the  gubernatorial  chamber ; and  why  that  which 


ZI2 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


relates  to  government  should  be  called  guberna- 
torial rather  than  governmental,  except  for  the  sake 
of  being  at  once  pedantic,  uncouth,  and  outlandish, 
it  would  be  hard  to  tell. 

Hydropathy. — This  word,  and  electropathy^ 
and  all  of  the  same  sort,  should  also  be  scouted  out 
of  sight  and  hearing.  They  are  absolutely  with- 
out meaning,  and,  in  their  composition,  are  fine 
examples  of  pretentious  ignorance.  Hahnemann 
called  the  system  of  medicine  which  he  advocated, 
homoeopathy,  because  its  method  was  to  cure  dis- 
ease by  drugs  which  would  cause  a like  (pnioios) 
disease  or  suffering  {pathos^.  The  older  system 
was  naturally  called  by  him  (it  was  never  before 
so  called  by  its  practisers)  allopathy,  because  it 
worked  by  medicines  which  set  up  an  action  counter 
to,  different  from  {alios)  ^ the  disease.  These  are 
good  technical  Greek  derivatives.  And  by  just  as 
much  as  they  are  good  and  reasonable,  are  hy- 
dropathy and  electropathy  bad  and  foolish.  Why 
should  water-c^^r^  be  called  vj?i\Qv-disease?  why 
electric-cure,  electric-disease?  The  absurdity  of 
these  words  is  shown  by  translating  them.  They 
are  plainly  sprung  from  the  desire  of  those  who 
practise  the  water-cure  and  the  electric-cure  to  be 
reckoned  with  the  legitimate  pathies.  And  the 
hydropathists  ” and  "electropathists”  are  not  alone. 
\ saw  once,  before  a little  shop  with  some  herbs  in 
the  window,  a sign  which  ran  thus  : — 

INDIAN 

OPATHIST. 

I was  puzzled  for  a moment  to  divine  what  an 
opathist  might  be.  But,  of  course,  I saw  in  the 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


213 


next  moment  that  the  vender  of  the  herbs  in  the 
little  shop,  thinking  that  his  practice  had  as  good  a 
right  as  any  other  to  a big  name,  and  deceived  by 
the  accent  which  some  persons  give  to  honioeof- 
athy  and  allopathy^  had  called  his  practice  Indian- 
Opathy,  and  himself  an  Indian-Opathist.  He  was 
not  one  whit  more  absurd  than  the  self-styled  ” hy- 
dropathist  ” and  " electropathist.”  As  great  a blun- 
der was  made  by  an  apothecary,  who,  wishing  to 
give  a name  to  a new  remedy  for  cold  and  cough, 
advertised  it  widely  as  coldine.  Now,  the  termi- 
nation ine  is  of  Latin  origin,  and  means  having  the 
quality  of ; as  metalline^  having  the  quality  of  metal ; 
alkaline^  having  the  quality  of  alkali ; canine  hav- 
ing the  qualities  of  a dog  ; asinine^  those  of  an  ass. 
And  so  this  apothecary,  wishing  to  make  a name 
that  would  sound  as  fine  as  glycerme^  and  stearine^ 
and  the  like,  actually  advertised  his  remedy  for  a 
cold  as  something  that  had  the  quality  of  a cold. 
The  rudest  peasants  do  better  than  that  by  lan- 
guage, for  they  are  content  with  their  mother 
tongue.  A gentleman  who  was  visiting  one  of  the 
remotest  rural  districts  of  England,  met  a bare-footed 
girl  carrying  a pail  of  water.  Floating  on  the  top 
of  the  water  was  a disc  of  wood  a little  less  in  diam- 
eter than  the  rim  of  the  pail.  "What’s  that,  my 
,\ass?”  he  asked.  "Thot?”  (with  surprise)  ; "why, 
thot’s  a stiller ''  It  was  a simple  but  effective  con- 
trivance for  stilling  the  water  as  it  was  carried. 
The  word  is  not  in  the  dictionaries,  but  they  con- 
tain no  better  English.  It  is  only  when  men  wish 
to  be  big  and  fine,  to  seem  to  know  more  than  they 
do  know,  and  to  be  something  that  they  are  not,  that 


214 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


they  make  such  absurd  words  as  hydropathy ^ elec- 
tropathy^ indianopaihy ^ and  coldme. 

IzE  and  1st,  two  useful  affixes  for  the  expression 
of  action  and  agenc}^  are  often  ignorantly  added 
when  they  are  entirely  superfluous,  and  when  they 
are  incongruous  with  the  stem.  They  are  Greek 
terminations,  and  cannot  properly  be  added  to  An- 
glo-Saxon words.  1st  is  the  substantive  form,  ize 
the  verbal.  Among  the  monsters  in  this  form  none 
is  more  frequently  met  with  than  jeopardize — a fool- 
ish and  intolerable  word,  which  has  no  rightful  place 
in  the  language,  although  even  such  a writen  as 
Charles  Reade  thus  uses  it : — 

“ He  drew  in  the  horns  of  speculation,  and  went  on  in  the  old, 
safe  routine;  and  to  the  restless  activity  that  had  jeopardized 
the  firm  succeeded  a strange  torpidity.” 

Certain  verbs  have  been  formed  from  nouns  and 
adjectives  by  the  addition  of  ise^  or  properly  ize; 
as,  for  example,  equals  equalize;  civile  civilize  ; pa~ 
tron^  patronize.  But  jeopardize  has  no  such  claims 
to  toleration  or  respect.  It  is  formed  by  adding  ize 
to  a verb  of  long  standing  in  the  language,  and 
which  means  to  put  in  peril ; and  jeopardize^  if  it 
means  anything,  means  nothing  more  of  less. 

Experimentalize  is  a word  of  the  same  char- 
acter as  the  foregoing.  It  has  no  rightful  place 
in  the  language,  and  is  both  uncouth  and  pre- 
tentious. The  termination  ize  is  not  to  be  tacked 
indiscriminately  to  any  word  in  the  language, 
verbs  and  adverbs  as  well  as  adjectives  and  nouns, 
for  the  purpose  of  making  new  verbs  that  are 
not  needed.  It  has  a meaning,  and  that  mean- 
ing seems  to  be  continuity  of  action ; certainly 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


215 


action,  and  action  which  is  not  momentary.  Thus, 
equalize^  to  make  equal ; naturalize^  to  make  as  if 
natural ; civilize^  to  make  civil ; so  with  moralize^, 
legalize^  humanize^  etc.  But  the  people  who  use  ex~ 
ferimentalize^  use  it  in  the  sense,  to  try  experi- 
ments. Experiments  however.  Is  both  noun  and 
verb,  and  will  serve  all  purposes  not  better  served 
by  try  and  triaL 

Controversialists  conversationalists  and  agricuU 
turalists  too  frequently  heard,  are  inadmissible  for 
reasons  like  to  those  given  against  experiment^ 
alizc.  The  proper  words  are  contr  over  lists  con^ 
versationists  and  agriculturist.  The  others  have 
no  proper  place  in  the  English  vocabulary. 

The  ridiculous  effect  of  the  slang  words  shootists 
stabbists  zvalhists  and  the  like,  is  produced  by  the 
incongruity  of  adding  ist  to  verbs  of  Teutonic  ori- 
gin. Ers  the  Anglo-Saxon  sign  of  the  doer  of  a 
thing,  is  incorrectly  affixed  to  such  words  as  pho- 
tograph and  telegraphs  which  should  give  us  pho- 
tographist and  telegraphist;  as  we  say,  correctly, 
paragraphists  not  paragrapher ; although  the  lat- 
ter would  have  the  support  of  such  words  as  geog- 
rapher and  biographer s which  are  firmly  fixed  in 
the  language. 

Petroleum. — This  word  may  be  admitted  as 
perfectl}"  legitimate,  but  it  is  one  of  a class  which  is 
doing  injury  to  the  language.  Petroleum  means 
merely  rock  oil.  In  it  the  two  corresponding  Latin 
words,  petra  and  oleimis  are  only  put  together; 
and  we,  most  of  us,  use  the  compound  without 
knowing  what  it  means.  Now,  there  is  no  good 
reason,  or  semblance  of  one,  why  we  should  use  a 


2i6 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


pure  Latin  compound  of  four  syllables  to  express 
that  which  is  better  expressed  in  an  English  one  ot 
two.  The  language  is  full  of  words  compounded 
of  two  or  more  simple  ones,  and  which  are  used  with- 
out a thought  of  their  being  themselves  other  than 
simple  words — chestnut^  walnut^  acorn  ^ household^ 
husbandman^  manhood^  witchcraft^  shepherd ^ sher- 
iffs anon^  alone ^ wheelwrights  towards  forwards 
and  the  like.  The  power  to  form  such  words  is  an 
element  of  wealth  and  strength  in  a language  : and 
every  word  got  up  for  the  occasion  out  of  the  Latin 
or  the  Greek  lexicon,  when  a possible  English  com- 
pound would  serve  the  same  purpose,  is  a standing 
but  unjust  reproach  to  the  language  a false  im- 
putation of  both  v/eakness  and  inflexibility.  The 
English  oiit-take  is  much  better  than  the  Latin 
compound  by  which  it  has  been  supplanted  — ex- 
cept. And  why  should  we  call  our  bank-side  towns 
r farian  1 In  dropping  wanhoj)e  we  have  thrown 
away  a word  for  which  desj)air  is  not  an  equiva- 
lent ; and  the  place  of  truth-likes  or  t7nie-seeming 
would  be  poorly  filled  by  the  word  which  some  very 
elegant  people  are  seeking  to  foist  upon  us  — vrai- 
semblahle.  If  those  who  have  given  us  /petroleum 
for  rock-oil  had  had  the  making  of  our  language  in 
past  times,  our  evergreens  would  have  been  called 
sempervirids. 

Practitioner  is  an  unlovely  intruder,  which  has 
slipped  into  the  English  language  through  the  phy- 
sician’s gate.  We  have  no  word  practition  to  be 
made  a noun  of  agency  by  the  suffix  er  or  ist. 
But  either  practitioner  or practitionist  means  only 
one  who  practises,  a practiser.  Physicians  speak  of 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


217 


their  practice,  and  of  the  practice  of  medicine,  and 
in  the  next  breath  call  a medical  man  a practitioner. 
The  dictionary-makers  give  -practise  as  the  stem 
of  practitioner  — it  is  difficult  to  see  why.  The 
word  is  evidently  the  French  praticicn^  which  has 
been  Anglified  first  by  distortion,  and  then  by  an 
incongruous  addition,  in  the  hope  of  attaining  what 
was  unattainable  — a word  meaning  something  big- 
ger and  finer  than  is  meant  by  the  simple  and  cor- 
rect form  practiscr. 

Presidential. — This  adjective,  which  is  used 
among  us  now  more  frequently  than  any  other  not 
vituperative,  laudatory,  or  boastful,  is  not  a legiti- 
mate word.  Carelessness  or  ignorance  has  sad- 
dled it  with  an  f,  which  is  “ on  the  wrong  horse.” 
ft  belongs  to  a sort  of  adjectives  which  are  formed 
from  substantives  by  the  addition  of  al.  For 
example,  incident^  incidental;  orient^  oriental; 
regiment^  regimental ; experiment^  experimental. 
When  the  noun  ends  in  euphony  and  ease  of 
utterance  require  the  modification  of  the  sound  of 
al  into  that  of  ial ; as  ojffice^  official ; co7iseqitence. 
conseqne7itial ; com^nerce.,  coimncrcial.  But  we 
might  as  well  say  parentiaP  monumential and 
governmentiaP  as  presidential.  The  proper  form 
is  presidentaP  as  that  of  the  adjectives  formed  upon 
tangent  and  exponent  is  tange^ital  and  expoiiental. 
PresidentiaU  tangential^  and  experiential  are  a 
trinity  of  monsters  which,  although  they  have  not 
been  lovely  in  their  lives,  should  yet  in  their  death 
be  not  divided. 

Tangential  and  exponential^  it  is  plain,  were  in- 
correctly made  up  by  some  mathematician ; and 


2i8 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


mathematicians,  however  exact  they  may  be  in 
their  scientific  work,  are  frequently  at  fault  in 
their  formation  of  words  and  phrases.  These 
words  and  fresidential  are  the  only  examples  of 
their  kind  which  have  received  the  recognition,  and 
have  been  stamped  with  the  authority,  even  of  dic- 
tionary-makers ; which  recognition  and  stamp  of 
authority  mean  simply  that  the  dictionary-makers 
have  found  the  words  somewhere,  and  have  added 
them  to  the  heterogeneous  swarm  upon  their  pages- 
Euphony,  no  less  than  analogy,  cries  out  for  the 
correct  forms,  -presidental^  tangcntal^  and  cx^oncn^ 
tal.  The  rule  of  analogy  is  far  from  being  abso- 
lute ; but  if  analogy  may  not  be  reasoned  from  in 
etymology  (although  not  always  as  the  ultmia 
ratio),  language  must  needs  be  abandoned  to  the 
popular  caprice  of  the  moment,  and  we  must  admit 
that,  in  speech,  whatever  is,  at  any  time,  in  any 
place,  among  whatever  speakers,  is  right. 

The  phrase  presidential  eampaign  is  a blatant 
Americanism,  and  is  a good  example  of  what  has 
been  well  styled  * " that  inflamed  newspaper  Eng- 
lish which  some  people  describe  as  being  elo- 
quence.” Is  it  not  time  that  we  had.  done  with 
this  nauseous  talk  about  campaigns,  and  standard- 
bearers,  and  glorious  victories,  and  all  the  bloated 
army-bumrning  bombast  which  is  so  rife  for  the  six 
months  preceding  an  election?  To  read  almost 
any  one  of  our  political  papers  during  a canvass  is 
enough  to  make  one  sick  and  sorry.  The  calling 
a canvass  a campaign  is  not  defensible  as  a use  of 

* In  “The  Nation,”  a paper  which  is  doing  much,  I hope,  at  once  to  sober  and  t* 
\levate  the  tone  both  of  our  journalism  and  our  politics. 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


219 


metaphor,  because,  first,  no  metaphor  is  called  for, 
and  last,  this  one  is  entirely  out  of  keeping.  We 
could  do  our  political  talking  much  better  in  simple 
English.  One  of  the  great  needs  of  the  day,  in  re- 
gard to  language,  is  the  purging  it  of  the  prurient 
and  pretentious  metaphors  which  have  broken  out 
all  over  it,  and  the  getting  plain  people  to  say  plain 
things  in  a plain  way.  An  election  has  no  manner 
of  likeness  to  a campaign  or  a battle.  It  is  not 
even  a contest  in  which  the  stronger  and  more  dex- 
terous party  is  the  winner : it  is  a mere  comparison, 
a counting,  in  which  the  bare  fact  that  one  party  is 
the  more  numerous  puts  it  in  power,  if  it  will 
only  come  up  and  be  counted ; to  insure  which, 
a certain  time  is  spent  by  each  party  in  belittling 
and  reviling  the  candidates  of  its  opponents,  and  in 
magnifying  and  lauding  its  own  ; and  this  is  the 
canvass,  at  the  likening  of  which  to  a campaign 
every  honest  soldier  might  reasonably  take  offence. 
The  loss  of  an  election  is  sure  to  be  attributed  to  vari- 
ous causes  by  the  losers ; but  the  only  and  the  sim- 
ple and  sufficient  cause  is,  that  more  men  chose  to 
vote  against  them  than  with  them ; and  as  to  the 
why  of  the  why,  it  is  either  conviction,  or  friend- 
ship, or  interest,  with  which  all  the  meeting  and 
parading,  and  bawling  and  shrieking,  of  the  previ- 
ous three  or  four  months  has  nothing  whatever  to 
do.  It  will  be  well  for  the  political  morality  and 
the  mental  tone  of  our  people  when  they  are  brought 
to  see  this  matter  as  it  is,  simply  of  itself;  and  one 
very  efficient  mode  of  enabling  them  to  do  so,  would 
be  for  journals  of  character  and  men  of  sense  to 
write  and  speak  of  it  in  plain  language,  calling  a 


220 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


spade  a spade,  instead  of  using  "that  inflamed  Eng- 
lish ” which  is  now  its  common  vehicle,  and  which  is 
so  contagious  and  so  corrupting  : — so  contagious,  and 
so  corrupting,  indeed,  that  I am  not  fond  enough  to 
hope  that  anything  said  here,  even  were  it  said  with 
more  reason  and  stronger  persuasion  than  I can  use, 
will  unsettle  any  fixed  habit  of  speech  in  my  read- 
ers. I merely  tell  them  what,  in  my  judgment,  it 
is  right  and  best  to  say,  knowing  in  my  heart,  all 
the  while,  that  they,  or  most  of  them,  will  go  on 
speaking  as  they  hear  those  around  them  speak,  as 
they  will  act  as  they  see  those  around  them  acting. 
People  do  not  learn  good  English  or  good  manners 
by  verbal  instruction  received  after  adolescence. 
Eveiy  man  is  like  the  apostle  Peter  in  one  re- 
spect— that  his  tongue  bewrays  him. 

Proven,  which  is  frequently  used  now  by  law- 
yers and  journalists,  should,  perhaps,  be  ranked 
among  words  that  are  not  words.  Those  who  use 
it  seem  to  think  that  it  means  something  more,  or 
other,  than  the  word  for  which  it  is  a mere  Low- 
land Scotch  and  North  of  England  provincialism. 
Proved  is  the  past  participle  of  the  verb  to  ^rove^ 
and  should  be  used  by  all  who  wish , to  speak 
English. 

Reliable. — Before  giving  our  attention  direct- 
ly to  this  word,  it  will  be  well  to  consider  what 
might  be  said  in  favor  of  one  which  has  some- 
what similar  claims  to  a place  in  the  language  — 
imdisf cllowshi fable . We  have  seen  that  the  verb  to 
fellowshif  has  the  " authority  ” of  ancient  and  distin- 
guished usage.  Now,  if  we  can  fellowship  with  a 
man,  we  may  disfellowship  with  him ; and  if  a man 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


223 


whom  we  may  rely  upon  is  a reliable  man,  a man 
whom  we  can  disfellowship  with  is  disfellowshipa- 
ble,  and  one  whose  claims  upon  us  are  such  that  we 
cannot  disfellowship  with  him  is  undisfellowshipabl(i. 
I admit  that  I can  discover  no  defect  in  this  reasoning 
if  the  premises  are  granted.  If  mere  ancient  and 
honorable  use  authorizes  a word,  the  verb  to  fellow^ 
shif  — as,  I would  fellowship  with  him  — has  un- 
deniable authority;  and  no  reason  which  can  be 
given  for  calling  a man  who  may  be  relied  upon 
reliable  will  fail  to  support  us  in  calling  a man  who 
can  be  fellowshipped  with  fellowshipable.  It  may, 
however,  be  urged,  — and  I should  venture  to  take 
the  position,  — that  the  mere  use  of  a word,  or  a col- 
location of  syllables  with  an  implied  meaning,  what- 
ever the  eminence  of  the  user,  is  not  a sufficient 
ground  for  the  reception  of  that  word  into  the  recog- 
nized vocabulary  of  a language.  For  instance, 
the  word  intrinsecate  is  used  by  Shakespeare  him- 
self : — 

“ Come,  mortal  wretch, 

With  thy  sharp  tooth  this  knot  intrinsecate 
Of  life  at  once  untie.”  — Ant.  and  Cleop.^  V.  2. 

This  may  have  been  a superfluous  attempt  to  An- 
glicise the  Italian  intrinsccare^  or,  as  Dr.  Johnson 
suggested,  an  ignorant  formation  between  intricate 
and  intrinsical.  But  notwithstanding  the  eminence 
of  the  user,  it  has  no  recognized  place  in  the  Ian 
guage,  and  is  one  of  the  words  that  are  not  words. 

Reliable  is  conspicuous  among  those  words. 
That  it  is  often  heard  merely  shows  that  many  per- 
sons have  been  led  into  the  error  of  using  it ; that 
other  words  of  like  formation  have  been  found  in 


222 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


the  writings  of  men  of  more  or  less  note  in  litera- 
ture merely  shows  that  inferior  men  are  not  more 
incapable  than  Shakespeare  was  of  using  words 
ignorantly  formed  by  the  union  of  incongruous  ele- 
ments. Passing  for  the  present  the  words  which 
are  brought  up  to  support  reliable  by  analogy  (on 
the  ground,  it  would  seem,  unless  they  themselves 
can  be  sustained  by  reason,  that  one  error  may  be 
justified  by  others),  let  us  confine  our  attention  to 
that  one  of  the  group,  which,  being  oftenest  heard, 
is  of  most  importance. 

Probably  no  accumulation  of  reason  and  authority 
would  protect  the  language  from  this  innovating 
word  (which  is  none  the  worse,  however,  because 
it  is  new)  ; for  to  some  sins  men  are  so  wedded  that 
they  will  shut  their  ears  to  Moses  and  the  prophets, 
and  to  one  risen  from  the  dead.  Previous  writers 
have  well  remarked  that  it  is  anomalous  in  position 
and  incongruous  in  formation ; that  adjectives  in 
ahle^  or  its  equivalent,  ible^  are  formed  from  verbs 
transitive,  the  passive  participle  of  which  can  be 
united  with  the  meaning  of  the  suffix  in  the  definition 
of  the  adjective.  For  example,  lovable^  that  may 
be  loved  ; legible^  that  may  be  read  ; eatable^  that 
may  be  eaten  ; eurable^  that  may  be  cured,  and  so 
forth  ; that  reliable  does  not  mean  that  may  be 
relied,  but  is  used  to  mean  that  may  be  relied  ufon^ 
and  that,  therefore,  it  is  not  tolerable.  The  counter- 
plea.  has  been,  until  recently,  usage  and  conven- 
ience. But  the  usage  in  question  has  been  too  short 
and  too  unauthoritative  to  have  any  weight ; and 
convenience  is  not  a justification  of  monstrosity, 
when  the  monstrosity  is  great,  offensive,  and  of 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


223 


degrading  influence,  and  the  convenience  so  small 
as  to  be  inappreciable.  But  it  has  been  recently 
urged,  with  an  air  of  pardonable  triumph,  that  the 
rule  of  formation  above  mentioned  has  not  pre- 
vailed in  our  language,  as  is  shown  by  the  presence 
in  it  of  long-established  adjectives,  bearing  with 
them  the  weight  of  all  possible  authority ; for  in- 
stance, laughable^  which  does  not  mean  that  may 
be  laughed,  but  that  may  be  laughed  at.  Here  the 
case  has  rested ; and  if  this  argument  could  not  be 
overthrown,  the  question  would  have  been  decided 
by  it,  and  the  use  of  reliable  would  be  a matter  of 
individual  taste.  But  the  argument  goes  too  far, 
because  those  who  used  it  did  not  go  far  enough. 
Comfortable  does  not  mean  that  may  be  comforted, 
but  that  has  or  that  gives  comfort ; forcible.,  not  that 
may  be  forced,  but  that  is  able  to  force  ; seasonable, 
not  that  may  be  seasoned,  but  that  is  in  season,  in 
accord  with  the  season  ; leisurable,  that  has  leisure  ; 
fashionable,  that  has  fashion.  The  suffix  able,  in 
Latin  abilis,  expresses  the  idea  of  power,*  and  so 
of  capacity,  ability,  fitness.  It  may  be  affixed  either 
to  verbs  or  to  nouns  ; and  of  adjectives  in  this  class 
not  a few  are  formed  upon  the  latter.  In  the  ex- 
amples above  it  is  affixed  to  nouns.  Now,  laugh  is 
a noun,  and  laughable,  marriageable,  treasonable, 
leisurable,  objectionable,  and  conrpanionable  are  in 
the  same  category.  Laughable  does,  in  effect, 
mean  that  mp}^  be  laughed  at,  as  objectionable 
means,  in  effect,  that  may  be  objected  to  , but  neither 
must  tlierefore  be  regarded  as  formed  from  the 
verb  by  which  each  may  be  defined.  Finally,  the 


See  Tooke’s  “Diversions  of  Parley,”  Vol.  II.  p.  502. 


2 24  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

fact  is  that,  excepting  a comparatively  few  adjec- 
tives in  able  ox  ihle  thus  formed  upon  nouns,*  every 
one  of  the  multitudinous  class  of  adjectives  formed 
by  this  suffix — a class  which  includes  about  nine 
hundred  words — is  formed  upon  a verb  transitive, 
and  may  be  defined  by  the  passive  participle.  They 
afford,  therefore,  no  support  to  the  word  reliable^ 
because  we  cannot  rely  anything. 

Professor  Whitney,  in  his  book  on  ”The  Study 
of  Language,”  a work  combining  knowledge  and 
wisdom  in  a greater  degree  than  any  other  of  its 
kind  in  English  literature,  gives  some  attention  to 
the  word  in  question,  but  contents  himself  with 
setting  forth  the  arguments  for  and  against  it,  with- 
out summing  up  the  case  and  passing  judgement. 
Among  the  reasons  in  its  favor  he  mentions  "the 
enrichment  of  the  language  by  a synonyme,  which 
may  yet  be  made  to  distinguish  a valuable  shade 
of  meaning ; which,  indeed,  already  shows  sight  of 
doing  so,  as  we  tend  to  say  'a  trustworthy  witness’ 
but  ""  reliable  testimony.’  ” 

This  is  plausible,  but  only  plausible ; and  it  has 
been  well  answered  by  an  able  pupil  of  Professor 
Whitney’s,  and  one  worthy  of  his  master, | as  fol- 
lows : — 

“ A little  examination  will  show  that  there  is  no  case  at  all  for 
the  w'ord  in  question.  There  is  really  no  tendency  whatever, 
in  common  speech,  to  differentiate  the  two  words  in  the  senses 
named,  for  reliable  is,  in  a large  majority  of  cases,  applied  to 
persons.  Nor,  if  there  were  such  a tendency,  would  it  add  gny- 
thing  to  the  language,  any  more  than  to  devise  two  distinct 
verbs  meaning  believe,  the  one  to  express  believing  a man,  the 
other,  believing  what  he  says.” 


* No  small  proportion  of  them  is  cited  above.  Many  which  have  no  i)roper  plact 
m the  language  are  to  be  found  in  dictionaries. 

t Mr.  Charlton  Lewis  in  “The  Evening  Post”  of  March  6,  1869. 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


225 


or  the  common  use  of  reliable^  I met  with  the 
following  amusing  and  illustrative  example  in  the 
Paris  correspondence  of  the  London  ” Star.”  The 
Prince  and  Princess  Christian,  arriving  at  the  French 
capital,  had  been  compelled,  for  want  of  better 
carriage,  to  visit  Trianon  in  a cab.  Whereupon  a 
quarter  of  a column  of  British  astonishment  and 
disgust,  closing  with  this  paragraph  : — 

“ I do  the  justice  to  the  Prefect  to  assert  that  a telegram  de- 
spatched on  the  party  leaving  Paris  would  have  secured  the 
presence  of  a more  reliable  vehicle  than  a hackney  cab  at  the 
Versailles  station.” 

Here  our  word  is  put  to  fitting  service  in  contrast- 
ing a reliable  vehicle  with  an  unreliable  cab.  And 
here  is  yet  another  instance  in  which  the  word  ap- 
pears suitably  accompanied.  The  sentence  is  from 
the  prospectus  of  "The  Democrat,”  published  by 
the  gentleman  known  as  " Brick  Pomeroy.” 

“ Politically  it  will  be  Democratic,  red-hot  and  reliable.” 

The  red-hot  and  reliable  democracy  of  Mr. 
“Brick  Pomeroy’s”  paper  and  the  unreliable  cab 
at  Versailles  are  well  consorted. 

Of  the  few  words  which  may  be,  and  some  ol 
which  have  been,  cited  in  support  of  reliable^  here 
follow  the  most  important  — the  examples  of  their 
use  being  taken  from  Richardson’s  Dictionary  : — 

Anchorable.  “ The  sea,  everywhere  twenty  leagues  from  land, 
is  anchorable.’’'’  — Sir  T.  Herbert. 

Complainable.  “Though  both  be  blamable,  yet  superstition 
is  less  complainable.”  — Feltham. 

Disposable.  “ The  office  is  not  disposable  by  the  crown.’ 
— Burhe. 

Inquirable.  “There  may  be  many  more  things  inquirable  b'^ 
you.”  — Bacon. 


15 


226 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Of  these  passages,  the  first  affords  an  example 
of  the  improper  use  of  words  properly  formed  ; the 
second,  of  unjustifiable  formations,  like  reliable, 
A vessel  may  be  anchorable ; a sea  cannot  be 
so : neither  a superstition  nor  anything  else  can 
be  complainable,  although  it  may  be  complained 
of.  Herbert  and  Feltham  could  go  astray  in  the 
use  of  anehorahle  and  co^nflainable ^ as  Shakes- 
peare could  in  that  of  intrinsecate.  The  other 
two  words  could  be  accepted  as  of  any  weight 
upon  this  question  only  through  ignorance  both  ot 
their  meaning  and  their  history.  Disfose  does  not 
need  of  to  complete  its  transitive  sense ; and  the 
preposition  has  been  added  to  it  in  common  usage 
quite  recently  — long  after  disposable  came  into  the 
language.  Richardson  affords  the  following  ex- 
amples in  point : — • 

“ Sens  God  seeth  everything  out  of  doutance, 

And  hem  disposeth  through  his  ordinance.” 

Chaucer. 

“ But  God,  who  secretly  disposeth  the  course  of  things.” 

Ty  tidal. 

And  to  this  day  we  say  that  people  dispose  (not 
dispose  of)  themselves  in  groups  to  their  liking,  as 
Spenser  said  : — 

“ The  rest  themselves  in  troupes  did  else  dispose.” 

Faerie  ^ueene^  II.  8. 

And  accordingly  Prynne,  a careful  writer,  who 
lived  two  hundred  years  before  Burke,  says  of  the 
realm  of  Bohemia,  most  of  the  great  offices  of 
which  realme  are  hereditary,  and  not  disposable  by 
the  king.” 

Inquirable.,  as  used  by  Bacon,  means,  not  that 
may  be  inquired  into,  but  that  may  be  inquired,  i.  e., 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


227 


asked.  It  is  simply  equivalent  to  askable.  In  the 
sense  of  inquired  into  it  would  not  be  admissible, 
and  no  recent  examples  of  its  use,  or  of  its  use  in 
that  sense,  are  cited  by  Richardson. 

Available — the  word  which  seems  most  to  sup- 
port reliable.,  because  it  is  surely  formed  upon  the 
verb  avail.,  and  because,  although  we  may  say  of  a 
thing  that  it  avails  much  or  it  avails  nought,  we 
cannoc  say  it  may  be  availed  — is  itself  unavail- 
able to  the  end  for  which  it  is  cited.  For  avail 
itself  is  an  anomalous  and  exceptional  word  in  the 
manner  of  its  use.  It  means  to  have  value,  effect, 
worth,  power.  Yet  we  say,  both,  It  avails  little,  and 
He  avails  himself  of  it ; both.  Of  what  avail  was  it? 
and  It  was  of  no  avail,  as  we  say.  Of  what  worth  was 
it?  and  It  was  of  no  worth.  But  we  cannot,  or  do  not, 
speak  of  the  avail  of  anything,  as  we  speak  of  the 
worth  of  any  thing.  Avail.,  both  as  verb  and  sub- 
stantive, was  used  absolutely  by  our  early  writers  in 
the  sense  of  value,  and  available  — i.e..,  that  may 
be  valued  — came  into  the  language  under  those 
circumstances. 

Unrefentable.,  which  is  used  by  Pollok,  a writer 
of  low  rank  and  no  authority,  has  been  cited  in 
support  of  reliable.  But  there  is  no  verb  iinre^ 
-pent ; nor  is  there  any  instance  known  of  the  use 
of  the  adjective  repentable.  And  although  exam- 
ples are  numerous  of  the  use  in  the  Elizabethan 
period  of  repent  absolutely,  without  of*  yet  we 
read  in  our  English  Bible  not  of  a repentance  not 
repentable,  but  of  "a  repentance  not  to  be  repented 
of.” 

* See  Mrs.  Clarke’s  “ Concordance  to  Shakespeare.” 


228 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Accountable  and  answerable  are,  like  available^ 
anomalous,  self-incongruous,  and  exceptionable. 
Accountable  is  used  to  mean,  not  that  may  be  ac- 
counted for,  but  tliat  may  be  held  to  account ; but 
a^iswerable  is  used  to  mean  both  that  may  be  an- 
swered (in  which  it  is  not  a counterpart  of  reliable) 
and,  that  maybe  held  to  answer;  while  unaccount- 
able is  used  only  to  mean  that  cannot  be  account- 
ed for,  and  unanswerable^  o^^ly  that  cannot  be  an- 
swered. These  adjectives  are  out  of  all  keeping. 

These  are  all  the  instances  of  adjectives  in  ble 
which  are  worthy  of  attention  in  the  consideration 
of  this  formation  ; and  we  have  seen  that  none  of 
them  support  the  use  of  the  affix  with  a verb  de- 
pendent and  intransitive,  like  rely.  If  there  were 
a noun  rely^  upon  that  we  might  form  reliable^  as 
companionable  has  been  formed  on  companion,  and 
dutiable  on  duty.  Unless  we  keep  to  this  la\v  of 
formation,  there  is  no  knowing  where  we  may  find 
ourselves  — stranded,  it  maybe,  on  some  such  rock 
as  a grievable  tale,  an  untrifleable  person,  or  a weep- 
able  tragedy.  For  instance,  reliable  has  been  fol- 
lowed into  the  world  by  a wortliy  kinsman,  liveable, 
in  the  phrase  "a  liveable  house,”  which  we  not 
only  hear  now  sometimes,  but  even  see  in  print, 
although  it  has  not  yet  been  taken  into  the  diction- 
aries, See,  for  example,  the  following  passage 
from  a magazine  of  such  high  and  well-deserved  a 
reputation  as  ” Macmillan’s  : ” — 

“ In  the  first  place,  we  would  lay  down  as  a fundamental  prin- 
ciple in  furnishing,  that  the  end  in  view  should  be  to  make  a 
house  or  a room  cheerful,  comfortable,  and  liveable.  We  say 
liveable,  because  there  are  so  many  which,  thougli  handsomely 
furnished,  are  dreary  in  the  extreme,  and  the  very  thought  of 
living  in  them  makes  one  sliudder.” 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


229 


Now,  a life  is  liveable,  because  a man  may  live 
a life,  as  he  can  be  himself;  but  a house  cannot  be 
lived  any  more  than  a pea-jacket.  Either  may  be 
lived  in,  according  to  the  liver’s  fancy.  Let  us  not, 
through  mere  sloth  and  slovenliness,  give  up  for 
such  a mess  as  rcliahle  our  birthright  in  a good 
word  and  a good  phrase  for  a man  who  is  trust- 
worthy, and  whose  word  may  be  relied  upon. 

Preventative,  Casuality,  receive  a passing 
notice,  only  because  they  are  heard  so  often  instead 
of  -preventive^  easualty.  They  ought  to  be,  but  I 
fear  that  they  are  not,  evidences  of  an  utter  want 
of  education  and  of  a low  grade  of  intelligence. 

Resurrected. — This  amazinn;  formation  has 
lately  appeared  in  some  of  our  newspapers,  one  of 
them  edited  by  a man  who  has  been  clerk  of  the 
Senate,  another,  one  of  the  most  carefully  edited 
journals  in  the  country.  For  example  : — 

“The  invention  described  in  yesterday’s  Times,  and  displayed 
on  Saturday  at  Newark,  by  which  a person  who  may  happen  to 
be  buried  alive  is  enabled  to  resurrect  himself  from  the  grave, 
may  leave  some  people  to  fancy  there  is  actual  danger  of  theii 
being  buried  alive.” 

A weekly  paper,  of  some  pretensions,  now  ex- 
tinct, described  Thomas  Rowley  as  a priest  whose 
writings  Chatterton  " professed  to  resurreet  in  the 
form  of  old,  stained,  moth-eaten  manuscripts.” 

What  is  this  word  intended  to  mean?  Possibly 
the  same  act  which  people  who  speak  English  mean 
when  they  say  that  Lazarus  was  raised  from  the 
dead.  The  formation  of  resurrect  from,  resurrection 
is  just  of  a piece  with  the  formation  of  donate  from 
donation^  inter  cess  from  intercession.  But  it  is 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


230 

somewhat  worse ; for  resurrected  is  used  to  mean 
raised,  and  resurrectio7i  does  not  mean  raising,  but 
rising.  Thus  we  speak  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus, 
but  of  the  resurrection  of  Christ ; of  God’s  raising 
the  dead,  but  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead. 

Sis,  Sissy.  — The  gentlemen  who,  with  affec- 
tionate gayety  and  gay  affection,  address  very 
young  ladies  as  Sis  or  Sissy,  indulge  themselves 
in  that  captivating  freedom  in  the  belief  that  they 
are  merely  using  an  abbreviation  of  sister.  They 
are  wrong.  They  doubtless  mean  to  be  frater- 
nal, or  paternal,  and  so  subjectively  their  notion 
is  correct.  But  vS/5,  as  a generic  name  for  a young 
girl,  has  come  straight  down  to  us,  without  the 
break  of  a day,  from  the  dark  ages.  It  is  a mere 
abbreviation  or  nickname  of  Cicely.,  and  appears 
all  through  our  early  literature  as  Cis  and  Cissy. 
It  was  used,  like  yoan  and  MolU  to  mean  any 
young  girl,  as  Rob  or  Hoh^  the  nicknames  of 
Robert,  were  applied  in  a general  way  to  any 
young  man  of  the  lower  classes. 

“ Robert’s  esteemed  for  handling  flail, 

And  Ciss  for  her  clean  milking-pail.” 

The  Sarah-ad.,  1742,  p.  5. 

Shamefaced,  as  every  reader  of  Archbishop 
Trench’s  books  on  English  knows,  is  a mere  cor- 
ruption of  shamefast,  a word  of  the  steadfast  sort. 
The  corruption,  doubtless,  had  its  origin  in  a misap- 
prehension due  to  the  fact  that  fast  was  pronounced 
like  fadd,  with  the  name  sound  of  a,  which  led  to  the 
supposition  that  shamcfist  was  merely  an  irregular 
spelling  of  shamefaced.  To  a similar  confusion  of 
words  pronounced  alike  we  owe  the  phrase  ”not 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS 


231 


worth  a damn,”  in  which  the  last  word  represents 
watcr-cress.  The  Anglo-Saxon  name  of  the  cress 
was  cerse ; and  this,  by  that  transposition  of  the  r 
so  common  in  the  earlier  stages  of  our  language, 
and  which  gave  us  bird  for  brid^  and  bur^i  for  bren^ 
became  crcs.  But  for  a long  time  it  retained  its 
original  form  ; and  a man  who  meant  to  say  that 
anything  was  of  very  little  value,  said  sometimes  that 
it  was  not  worth  a rush,  and  others  that  it  was  not 
worth  a cerse,  or  kerse.  For  example  (one  of 
many),  see  this  passage  of  "Piers  Ploughman’s 
Vision  : ” — 

Wisdom  and  wit  now 
Is  noght  worth  a kerse, 

But  if  It  be  carded  with  coveitise, 

As  clotheres  keinben  his  wolle.” 

Identity  of  sound  between  two  words  led  to  a 
misapprehension  which  changed  the  old  phrase  into 
" not  worth  a curse ; ” and  a liking  for  variety, 
which  has  not  been  without  its  influence,  even  in 
the  vocabulary  of  oaths  and  objurgations,  led  to  the 
substitution  to  which  we  owe  "not  worth  a damn.” 
But  for  one  variety  of  this  phrase,  which  is  peculiar 
to  this  country,  and  which  is  one  of  its  very  few 
original  peculiarities,  " not  worth  a continental 
damn,”  I am  at  a loss  to  assign  a source;  except 
tliat  it  may  be  found  in  that  tendency  to  vastness 
of  ideas,  and  that  love  of  annexation  of  which  we 
are  somewhat  justly  accused,  and  which  crops  out 
even  in  our  swearing. 

Stand-point. — To  say  the  best  of  it,  this  is  a 
poor  compound.  It  receives  some  support,  but  not 
full  justiflcation,  from  the  German  stand-f  unkt ^ of 


232 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


which,  indeed,  it  is  supposed  to  be  an  Anglicized 
form,  first  used  by  Professor  Moses  Ta3dor.  Grant- 
ing for  the  moment  that  stand-j>oint  may  be  accepted 
as  meaning  standing-point,  and  that  when  we  say, 
from  our  stand-point,  we  intend  to  say  from  the  point 
at  which  we  stand,  what  we  really  mean  is,  from 
our  point  of  view ^ and  we  should  say  so.  Periph- 
rasis is  to  be  avoided  when  it  is  complicated  oi 
burdensome,  but  never  at  the  cost  of  correctness 
and  periphrasis  is  sometimes  not  only  stronger, 
because  clearer,  than  a single  word,  but  more  ele- 
gant. Sta7id-point^  whatever  the  channel  of  its 
coming  into  use,  is  of  the  sort  to  which  the  vulgar 
words  wash-tub^  shoe-horn^  brew-house^  coolc-stove. 
and  go-cart  belong,  the  first  four  of  which  are 
merely  slovenly  and  uncouth  abbreviations  of  wash- 
ing-tub^ shoeing-horn^  brewing-house^  and  cooking- 
stove^  the  last  being  a nursery"  word,  a counterpart 
to  which  would  be  rock-horse^  instead  of  rocking- 
horse.  Compounds  of  this  kind  are  properly  formed 
by  the  union  of  a substantive  or  participle,  used 
adjectively,  with  a substantive ; and  their  meaning 
may  be  exactly  expressed  by  reversing  the  position  of 
the  elements  of  the  compound,  and  connecting  them 
b}^  one  of  the  prepositions  of.,  to.,  and  for.  Thus, 
death-bed.,  bed  of  death ; stumbling-block.,  block 
of  stumbling  ; turning  point,  point  of  turning ; 
play-ground,  ground  for  pla}^ ; dew-point,  point  of 
dew  ; steam-boat,  boat  for  or  of  steam  {batcati  deva- 
pcur)  ; starvation-point , point  of  starvation  ; horse- 
trough,  trough  for  horses  ; rain-bow , bow  of  rain  ; 
bread-knife,  knife  for  bread  ; house-top,  top  of  house  ; 
dancing-girl,  girl  for  dancing  ; and  standing-point, 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


233 


point  for  or  of  standing  ; and  so  forth.  But  by  no 
contrivance  can  we  explain  stand-point  as  the  point 
of,  or  to,  or  for,  stand. 

Telegram. — This  word,  which  is  claimed  as 
an  "American”  production,  has  taken  root  quickly, 
and  is  probably  well  fixed  in  the  language.  It  is 
both  superfluous  and  incorrectly  formed  ; but  it  is 
regarded  as  convenient,  and  has  been  allowed  to 
pass  muster.  Telegraph  is  equally  good  as  a verb 
expressing  the  act  of  writing,  and  as  a noun  ex- 
pressing the  thing  written.  This  is  according  to  a 
well-known  analogy  of  the  language.  But  they 
who  must  have  a distinct  etymology  for  every  word 
may  regard  telegraphy  the  verb,  as  from 
(graphein)  = to  write,  and  the  noun  as  from  the 
Greek  noun  yQixifi]  (^graphe')  =a  writing.  In  mono- 
^raphy  epigraphy  paragraph y the  last  syllable 

in  like  manner  represents  {graphe)  ; in  nion- 

ograniy  epigram y and  diagram  the  last  syllable 
represents  (^gramma')  — an  engraved  charac- 

ter, a letter.*  This  distinction,  remembered,  will 
prevent  a confusion  which  prevails  with  many 
speakers  as  to  certain  words  in  graph  and  gram 
A monograph  is  an  essay  or  an  account  having  a 
single  subject;  a monogram,  a character  or  cipher 
Composed  of  several  letters  combined  in  one  figure  : 
an  epigraph  is  an  inscription,  a citation,  a motto ; 
an  epigram,  a short  poem  on  one  subject.  The 
confusion  of  these  terminations  has  recently  led 
some  writers  into  errors  which  are  amazing  and 

* Ypaniia,  litera,  scriptura ; (2)  librum  ; (3)  scriptum  quodcunque  ut  tabulae  publicas; 
leges,  libri  rationum,  &c.,  ct  plurali",  (4)  epistola,  literae ; (5)  literae,  doctrina  ; 
(6)  acta  publica,  tabulae  ; (7)  chirographura. 

Ypaipn,  scriptura,  scriptio;  (2)pictura;  (3)  accusatio. — Hederici  Lexicon. 


234 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


amusiDpf,  We  have  hac proposed,  and 
stcreogrn?n,  and  — Cad.aus  save  us  ! — cablegram^ 
not  only  proposed,  but  used.  Finally,  to  cap  the 
climax  of  absurdity,  some  ingenious  person,  encour- 
aged by  such  example,  proposes  thalagram  as  " fully 
expressive  and  every  way  appropriate,”  because 
thalassa  is  the  Greek  for  sea,  gramma  the  Greek 
for  letter,  and  the  letters  come  through  the  sea. 
The  first  two,  although  homogeneous,  are  incorrect, 
the  proper  termination  in  both  cases  being  grafh^ 
representing  (^grafhe)^  a writing,  and  not 

gram,  from  J^gramma^ , a character;  and  in 

the  third  there  is  not  only  the  same  error,  but  the 
incongruous  union  of  the  Teutonic  cable  with  the 
Greek  gramma.  The  last  is  not  worth  serious  con- 
sideration. Such  words  as  cablegram  and  thala- 
gra^n  are  only  deplorable  and  ridiculous  examples 
of  what  is  produced  when  men  who  are  unfit  to 
work  in  language  undertake  to  make  a word  that 
is  not  wanted.  There  is  no  more  need  of  such 
words  as  cablegram  and  thalagram  were  meant  to 
be,  than  there  is  of  a new  name  for  bread-and-but- 
ter. A telegraph  is  the  thing  which  sends  words 
from  afar,  and  telegram  is  in  general  use  to  mean 
the  word  or  words  so  sent ; and  whether  they 
come  across  land  or  water,  what  matter?  what  is  it 
to  any  reasonable  purpose?  A telegram  from  Eu- 
rope, or  from  California,  or  from  China,  is  all  the 
same,  whatever  may  be  the  route  by  which  it  is 
sent.  Whether  it  comes  by  an  iron  cable,  or  a 
copper  wire,  over  land  or  through  water,  what 
difference?  There  could  not  be  a finer  specimen 
of  an  utterly  superfluous  monster  than  this  English- 
Greek  hybrid  cablegram. 


WORDS  THAT  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


235 


Time  and  Tide  wait  for  no  Man. — This  prov- 
erb, one  of  the  oldest  in  the  language,  one  of  the 
most  commonly  used,  and  one  which  cannot  l^e 
expressed  with  its  full  force  and  point  in  any  other 
tongue,  may  be  noticed  here  without  impropriety, 
because  it  is  probably  not  understood  by  one  in  a 
thousand  of  its  users.  The  word  misunderstood  is 
tide^  which,  contrary  to  almost  universal  apprehen- 
sion of  the  adage,  does  not  here  mean  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  the  ocean.  Tide  has  here  its  original  mean- 
ing— time.  Thus  we  find  in  some  Middle  English 
Glosses,  published  in  the  ” Reliquiae  Antiquas  ” (Vol. 
I.  p.  12) , ” tyda.”  But  tide  is  not  a mere 

synonyme  of  time;  it  means  a time,  an  allotment 
of  time,  an  occasion.  It  was  long  used  for  hour^ 
as  in  the  following  Anglo-Saxon  statement  of  the 
length  of  the  year  : " dis  is  full  yer,  twelf  mon{)as 
fulle  and  endlufan  dagas,  six  tida ; ” i.  c.,  this  is  a 
full  year,  twelve  full  months,  and  eleven  days,  six 
hours.  It  meant  also  a certain  or  an  appointed 
time;  e.  g.,  ”Nu  tumorgen  on  t)is  ylcan  tid,”  i,  e.^ 
Now  to-morrow  on  this  same  time.  (Exodus  ix. 
18.)  This  sense  of  an  appointed  time  it  had  in  the 
old,  and  now  no  longer  heard,  saying.  The  tider  you 
go,  the  tider  you  come,  which  Skinner  renders  thus 
in  Latin  : ^lo  tem^orias  discedis,  eo  tem^poriits  re^ 
cedis.  The  ebb  and  flow  of  the  sea  came  to  be 
called  the  tide  because  it  takes  place  at  appointed 
seasons.  The  use  of  tide  in  this  sense,  a set  time, 
a season,  continued  to  a very  late  period ; of  which 
the  following  passage  from  Shakespeare  is  an 
example : 


236 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES 


“ What  hath  this  day  deserved, 

That  it  in  golden  letters  should  be  set 
Among  the  high  tides  in  the  calendar?” 

King  Jokn^  iii.  i., 

where  " high  tides  ” has  plainly  no  meaning  of 
peculiar  interest  to  mariners  and  fishermen.  Chau- 
cer says,  in  "Troilus  and  Cressida  : ” — 

“ The  morrow  came,  and  nighen  gan  the  time 
Of  mealtide.” 

This  use  of  the  word  is  still  preserved  in  the  names 
of  two  appointed  seasons,  the  church  festivals  Whit- 
suntide and  Christmastide,  or  Christtide,  which  are 
more  in  vogue  in  England  than  in  this  country. 
Tide  appears  in  this  sense  in  the  word  betide.  For 
example  : Woe  betide  you  ! that  is.  Woe  await  you  ; 
May  there  be  occasion  of  woe  to  you.  Tide  was 
thus  used  before  the  addition  of  the  prefix  be^  as  in 
the  following  lines  from  a poetical  interpretation  of 
dreams,  written  about  A.  D.  1315  : — 

“ Gif  the  see  is  yn  tempeste  . 

The  tid  anguisse  ant  eke  cheste  ” (/.  e.,  strife). 

Our  proverb,  therefore,  means,  not  time  and  the 
flow  of  the  sea  wait  for  no  man,  but  time  and  occa- 
sion, opportunity,  wait  for  no  man.  Tfie  proverb 
appears  almost  literally  in  the  following  lines,  which 
are  the  first  two  of  an  epitaph  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, that  may  be  found  in  the  "Reliquiae  Antiquae” 
(Vol.  I.  p.  268)  : — 

“ Farewell,  my  frendis,  the  tide  abideth  no  man; 

I am  departed  fro  this,  and  so  shall  3^6,” 

where,  again,  there  is  manifestly  no  allusion  to  the 
flow  of  water.  There  is  an  old  agricultural  phrase 
still  used  among  the  Lowland  Scotch  farmers,  in 


WORDS  THAI  ARE  NOT  WORDS. 


237 


which  tide  appears  in  the  sense  of  season  : " The 
grund’s  no  in  tid,”  i.  The  ground  is  not  in  sea- 
son, not  ready  at  the  proper  time  for  the  earing. 

The  use  of  tide  in  its  sense  of  hour,  the  hour,  led 
naturally  to  a use  of  hour  for  tide.  Among  the 
examples  that  might  be  cited  of  this  conversion, 
there  is  a passage  in  " Macbeth  ” which  has  long 
been  a puzzle  to  readers  and  commentators,  and 
upon  which,  in  my  own  edition  of  Shakespeare,  I 
have  given  only  some  not  very  relevant  comments 
by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hunter.  Macbeth  says  (Act  i. 
scene  3) , — 

“Time  and  the  hour  runs  through  the  roughest  day.’’ 

As  an  hour  is  but  a measured  lapse  of  time,  there 
has  been  much  discussion  as  to  why  Shakespeare 
should  have  written  "time  and  the  hour,”  and  many 
passages  have  been  quoted  from  Shakespeare  and 
other  poets  by  the  commentators,  in  which  time  and 
hour  are  found  in  close  relation  ; but  they  are  all, 
as  such  quotations  are  apt  to  be,  quite  from  the 
purpose. 

"Time  and  the  hour”  in  this  passage  is  merely  an 
equivalent  of  time  and  tide  — the  time  and  tide  that 
wait  for  no  man.  Macbeth’s  brave  but  unsteadfast 
soul  is  shaken  to  its  loose  foundations  by  the  prophe- 
cies of  the  witches,  and  the  speedy  fulfilment  of  the 
.‘irst  of  them.  His  ambition  tires  like  tinder  at  the 
touch  of  temptation,  and  his  quick  imagination  sets 
before  him  the  bloody  path  by  which  he  is  to  reach 
the  last  and  highest  prize,  the  promised  throne.  But 
his  good  instincts  — for  he  has  instincts,  not  purposes 
— revolt  at  the  hideous  prospect,  and  his  whole  na- 
ture is  in  a tumult  of  conflicting  emotion.  The  soul 


238 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


of  the  man  that  would  not  play  false,  and  yet  would 
wrongly  win,  is  laid  open  at  a stroke  to  us  in  this 
first  sight  we  have  of  him.  After  shying  at  the 
ugly  thing,  from  which,  however,  he  does  not  bolt, 
at  last  he  says,  cheating  himself  with  the  thought 
that  he  will  wait  on  Providence, — 

“ If  chance  will  have  me  king,  why,  chance  may  crown  me 
Without  my  stir.” 

And  then  he  helps  himself  out  of  his  tribulation, 
as  men  often  do,  with  an  old  saw,  and  says  it  will 
all  come  right  in  the  end.  Looking  into  the  black, 
turbulent  future,  which  would  be  all  bright  and  clear 
if  he  would  give  up  his  bad  ambition,  he  neither 
turns  back  nor  goes  forward,  but  says,  — 

“ Come  what  come  may, 

Time  and  the  hour  runs  through  the  roughest  day.” 

That  is,  time  and  opportunity,  time  and  tide,  , run 
through  the  roughest  day ; the  day  most  thickly 
bestead  with  trouble  is  long  enough,  and  has  occa- 
sions enough  for  the  service  and  the  safety  of  a 
ready,  quick-witted  man.  But  for  the  rhythm, 
Shakespeare  would  probably  have  written.  Time 
and  tide  run  through  the  roughest  day  ; but  as  the 
adage  in  that  form  was  not  well  suited  to  his  VCr5e, 
he  used  the  equivalent  phrase,  time  and  the  hour 
(not  time  and  a7i  hour,  or  time  and  the  hours)  ; 
and  the  appearance  of  the  singular  verb  in  this  line, 
I am  inclined  to  regard  as  due  to  the  poet’s  own  pen, 
not  as  accidental. 


FORMi^TION  OF  PRONOUNS. 


239 


CHAPTER  VIII 


FORMATION  OF  PRONOUNS. SOME.  ADJECTIVES 

IN  EN.  EITHER  AND  NEITHER.  SHALL  AND 

WILL. 


FORMATION  OF  PRONOUNS 


WO  correspondents  have  laid  before  me  the 


JL  great  need  — which  they  have  discovered  — 
of  a new  pronoun  in  English,  and  both  have  sug- 
gested the  same  means  of  supplying  the  deficiency, 
which  is,  in  the  words  of  the  first,  "the  use  of  cn^ 
or  some  more  euphonious  substitute,  as  a personal 
pronoun,  common  gender.”  "A  deficiency  exists 
there,”  he  glibly  continues,  "and  we  should  fill  it.” 
My  other  correspondent  has  a somewhat  juster 
notion  of  the  magnitude  of  his  proposition,  or,  as  I 
should  rather  say,  of  its  enormity.  But,  still,  he 
insists  that  a new  pronoun  is  " universally  needed,” 
and  as  an  example  of  the  inconvenience  caused  by 
the  want,  he  gives  the  following  sentence  ; — 

“If  a person  wishes  to  sleep,  they  mustn’t  eat  cheese  for 
Eupper.” 

' Of  course,”  he  goes  on  to  say,  "that  is  incorrect; 
} et  almost  every  one  would  say  they,^'"  (That  I 
venture  to  doubt.)  "Few  would  say  in  common 
conversation,  ' If  a person  wishes  to  sleep,  he  or 
she  mustn’t  eat  cheese  for  supper.’  It  is  too  much 


240  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

trouble.  We  must  have  a word  to  take  the  place  of 
he  or  she^  his  or  hers^  him  or  her^  etc. 

As  the  French  make  the  little  word  en  answer  a 
great  many  purposes,  suppose  we  take  the  same 
word,  give  it  an  English  pronunciation  (or  any  other 
word),  and  make  it  answer  for  any  and  every  case 
of  that  kind,  and  thus  tend  to  simplify  the  lan- 
guage.” 

To  all  this  there  are  two  sufficient  replies.  First, 
the  thing  can’t  be  done ; last,  it  is  not  at  all  neces- 
sary or  desirable  that  it  should  be  done.  And  to 
consider  the  last  point  first.  There  is  no  such 
dilemma  as  the  one  in  question.  A speaker  of 
common  sense  and  common  mastery  of  English 
would  say,  " If  a man  wishes  to  sleep,  lie  must  not 
eat  cheese  at  supper,”"^  where  man^  as  in  the  word 
mankmd^  is  used  in  a general  sense  for  the  species. 
Any  objection  to  this  use  of  man^  and  of  the  rela- 
tive pronoun,  is  for  the  consideration  of  the  next 
Woman’s  Rights  Convention,  at  which  I hope  it 
may  be  discussed  with  all  the  gravity  beseeming  its 
momentous  significance.  But  as  a slio^ht  contribu- 
tion  to  the  amenities  of  the  occasion,  I venture  to 
suggest  that  to  free  the  language  from  the  oppres- 
sion of  the  sex  and  from  the  outrage  to  its  dignity, 
which  have  for  centuries  lurked  in  this  use  of  man 
and  he^  it  is  not  necessary  to  say,  " If  a person 
wishes  to  sleep,  cn  mustn’t  eat  cheese  for  supper,” 
but  merely,  as  the  speakers  of  the  best  English  now 
say,  and  have  said  for  generations,  "If  one  wishes 
to  sleep,  one  mustn’t,  etc.”  One,  thus  used,  is  a 


♦ Unless  we  mean  that  the  supper  consisted  entirely  or  chiefly  of  cheese,  we  shoultf 
not  say  cheese  for  supper,  but  cheese  at  supper. 


FORMATION  OF  PRONOUNS. 


241 


good  pronoun,  of  healthy,  well-rooted  growth.  And 
we  have  in  some  another  word  which  supplies  all  our 
need  in  this  respect  without  our  going  to  the  French 
for  their  over-worked  cn  ; e.  g..  Void  des  bonnes 
fraises,  Voulez-vous  en  avoir  1 These  are  fine 
strawberries.  Will  you  have  some?  Thus  used, 
some  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a pronoun  which 
leaves  nothing  to  be  desired.  With  he^  she^  it^  and 
we^  and  one^  and  some,  we  have  no  need  of  en  or 
any  other  outlandish  pronoun. 

Or  we  should  have  had  one  long  ere  this.  For 
the  service  to  which  the  proposed  pronoun  would  be 
put,  if  it  were  adopted,  is  not  new.  The  need  is 
one  which,  if  it  exists  at  all,  must  have  been  felt 
five  hundred  years  ago  as  much  as  it  can  be  now. 
At  that  period,  and  long  before,  a noun  in  the  third 
person  singular  was  represented,  according  to  its 
gender,  by  the  pronouns  he,  she,  or  it,  and  there 
was  no  pronoun  of  common  gender  to  take  place  of 
all  of  them.  In  the  matter  of  language,  popular 
need  is  inexorable,  and  popular  ingenuity  inex- 
haustible ; and  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  things  that, 
if  the  imagined  need  had  existed,  it  should  not  have 
been  supplied  during  the  formative  stages  of  our 
language,  particularly  at  the  Elizabethan  period, 
to  which  we  owe  the  pronoun  its.  The  introduction 
of  this  word,  although  it  is  merely  a possessive 
form  of  it,  was  a work  of  so  much  time  and  diffi- 
culty, that  an  acquaintance  with  the  struggle  would 
alone  deter  a considerate  man  from  attempting  to 
make  a new  pronoun.  Although,  as  I have  said, 
it  is  a mere  possessive  form  of  a word  which  had 
been  on  the  lips  of  all  men  of  Anglo-Saxon  blood 


242 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


for  a thousand  years,  and  although  it  was  intro* 
duced  at  a period  notable  for  bold  linguistic  innova- 
tions, and  was  soon  adopted  by  some  of  the  most 
popular  writers,  Shakespeare  among  them,  nearly 
a century  elapsed  before  it  was  firmly  established 
in  the  English  tongue. 

For  pronouns  are  of  all  words  the  remotest  in 
origin,  the  slowest  of  growth,  the  most  irregular  and 
capricious  in  their  manner  of  growth,  the  most 
tenacious  of  hold,  the  most  difficult  to  plant,  the 
most  nearly  impossible  to  transplant.  To  say  that 
/,  the  first  of  pronouns,  is  three  thousand  years  old, 
is  quite  within  bounds.  We  trace  it  through  the 
Old  English  ich  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  ic^  and  the 
Gothic  ik.  It  appears  in  the  Icelandic  ek,  the  Dan- 
ish jeg,  the  Old  German  ih,  the  Russian  ia,  the 
Latin  and  Greek  ego,  and  the  Sanscrit  aham.  Should 
any  of  my  readers  fail  to  see  the  connection  between 
ah-am  and  /,  let  him  consider  for  a moment  that 
the  sound  expressed  by  the  English  I is  ah-ee. 

The  antiquity  of  pronouns  is  shown,  also,  by  the 
irregularity  of  their  cases.  That  is  generally  a trait 
of  the  oldest  words  in  any  language,  verbs  and 
adjectives  as  well  as  pronouns.  For  instance,  the 
words  expressing  consciousness,  existence,  pleas- 
ure, and  pain,  the  first  and  commonest  linguistic 
needs  of  all  peoples,  — in  English,  /,  he,  good,  had; 
in  Latin,  ego,  esse,  homes,  malus,  — are  regular  in 
no  language  that  I can  remember  within  the  narrow 
circle  with  which  I have  been  able  to  establish  an 
acquaintance.  Telegraph  and  skedaddle  are  as 
regular  as  may  be  ; but  we  say  go,  zuent,  gone  ; the 
Romans  said  eo,  ire,  ivi,  itmn ; and  the  irregular- 


FORMATION  OF  PRONOUNS. 


243 


[ties,  dialectic  and  other,  of  the  Greek  sifu  (ci/ni),  are 
multitudinous  and  anomalous.  English  pronouns 
have  real  cases,  which  is  one  sign  of  their  antiquity, 
the  AnMo-Saxon  having  been  an  inflected  lan~ 
guage  ; but  not  in  Anglo-Saxon,  in  Latin,  or  in  any 
other  inflected  language,  are  the  oblique  cases  of  / 
derived  from  it  more  than  they  are  in  English.  Afy, 
me^  we,  our,  us,  are  not  inflections  of  I ; but  neither 
are  meus,  mihi,  me,  nos,  nostrum,  nobis,  inflections 
of  ego.  The  oblique  cases  of  pronouns  are  furnislied 
by  other  parts  of  speech,  or  by  other  pronouns,  from 
which  they  are  taken  bodily,  or  composed,  in  the 
early,  and,  generally,  unwritten  stages  of  a lan- 
guage. Between  the  pronoun  and  the  article  there 
is  generally  a very  close  relation.  It  is  in  allusion 
to  this  fact  that  Sir  Hugh  Evans,  putting  William 
Page  to  school  ("  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,”  Act  IV. 
Scene  i ) , and  endeavoring  to  trip  the  lad,  — though 
he  learned  the  trick  of  William  Lilly  the  gram- 
marian,— asks,  ”What  is  he,  William,  that  doth 
lend  articles?”  But  the  boy  is  too  quick  for  him, 
and  replies,  "Articles  are  borrowed  of  the  pronoun, 
and  be  thus  declined : singulariter , nominativo, 
hie,  hcEC,  hoc.” 

A marked  instance  of  this  relationship  between 
the  pronoun  and  the  article,  and  an  instructive  ex- 
ample of  the  manner  in  which  pronouns  come  into 
a language,  is  our  English  she,  which  is  borrowed 
from  the  Anglo-Saxon  definite  article  se,  the  feminine 
form  of  which  was  seo  ; and  this  definite  article  it-, 
self  originally  was,  or  was  used  as,  a demonstrative 
pronoun,  corresponding  to  who,  that.  For  se  is  a 
softened  form  of  the  older  the ; and  Ic  the,  he  the 


244 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


are  Anglo-Saxon  for  I who,  he  who.  The  Anglo- 
Saxon  for  she  was  hco ; the  masculine  being,  as  in 
English,  he.  And  as  a definite  feminine  object  was 
expressed  by  the  article  seo,  it  has  been  supposed 
that  the  likeness  in  form  and  meaning  between  the 
two  caused  a coalition,  so  that  from  heo  and  sheo 
came  she.  But  this  must  have  been  in  the  North, 
if  at  all.  For  seo  or  scho,  the  Northern  equivalent 
to  heo  seems  to  have  been  the  direct  ancestor  of 
our  she.  And  in  Gothic  .y/  or  se—she;  where,  how- 
ever, there  is  again  the  kindred  likeness  between 
the  feminine  pronoun  and  the  article,  sa,  so  — the. 

Our  possessive  neuter  pronoun  its^  to  which  refer- 
ence has  been  made  before,  came  into  the  lanefuasre 
last  of  all  its  kin,  in  this  manner : As  heo  was  the 
feminine  of  he.>  hit  was  the  neuter.  From  hit  the 
h was  dropped  by  one  of  the  vicissitudes  which 
have  so  often  damped  the  aspirations  of  that  unfor- 
tunate letter.  Now  in  it^  the  t — half  the  word  — is 
no  part  of  the  original  pronoun,  but  the  mere  in- 
flectional termination  by  which  it  is  formed  from 
he.  But  by  long  usage,  in  a period  of  linguistic 
disintegration,  the  t came  to  be  looked  upon  as  an 
essential  part  of  the  word,  one  really  original  let- 
ter of  which,  /;,  had  been  dropped  by  the  most 
cultivated  writers.  This  letter,  however,  long  held 
its  place ; and  in  the  usage  of  the  common  people, 
and  in  that  of  some  writers,  the  Anglo-Saxon  hit 
was  the  neuter  pronoun  nearly  down  to  the  Eliz- 
abethan period.  Of  both  the  masculine  he  and  the 
neuter  hit^  the  possessive  case  was  his^  just  as  cjus 
s the  genitive  of  both  is  and  id ; and  so  Jus  was 
the  proper  lineal  possessive  case  of  f/,  the  succes- 


FORMATION  OF  PRONOUNS. 


245 


Bor  of  hit.  If  his  had  been  subjected  to  a depriva- 
tion like  to  that  of  the  nominative,  by  an  elision  of 
the  /^,  and  made  into  there  would  have  been  nc 
apparent  reason  to  question  its  relationship  to  it. 
But  this  was  not  to  be.  The  t^  not  the  //,  had  come 
to  be  regarded  as  the  essential  letter  of  the  word ; 
his  was  looked  upon  as  belonging  to  he,^  and  not  to 
it  ; and  to  the  latter  was  added  the  5,  which  is  a 
sign  of  possession  in  so  many  of  the  Indo-Euro- 
pean languages.  But  there  lingered  long,  not  only 
among  the  uneducated  people  who  continued  to  use 
hit^  but  among  writers  and  scholars,  a consciousness 
that  his  was  the  true  possessive  of  it,,  and  still  more 
a feeling  that  its  was  an  illegitimate  pretender. 
And,  indeed,  if  ever  word  was  justly  called  bastard, 
this  one  deserves  the  stigma.  But  like  some  other 
bastards,  it  has  held  the  place  it  seized,  and  justified 
the  usurpation  by  the  service  it  has  rendered.^ 
This  is  the  history  of  a pronominal  form  which 
was  excluded  from  our  English  Bible  (A.  D.  1611), 
which  was  used  but  nine  times  by  Shakespeare,  and 
instead  of  which  we  find  his,  her,  and  even  it  late  in 
the  seventeenth  century.  A singular  idiom,  the  oivn, 
expressing  reflective  possession,  was  in  use  between 
1350  and  1600.  Here  the  does  not  stand  for  its ; 
the  old  possessive  hit  having  been  in  general  use  as 
late  as  1500.  Besides,  the  own  expressed  plural  as 
well  as  singular  possession. 

* Some  doubt  yet  prevails  as  to  the  origin  of  the  use  of  his  as  a sign  of  the  posses- 
sive case,  as,  John  his  book.  May  it  not  have  come  in  thus?  Es  or  is,  the  possessive 
inflection,  was  first  separated  from  the  noun  ; e.  g.,  — 

“&  the  sweetest  tyring  that  is  to  gosshawke  & sperhawke  is  a pigge  is  tayle.” 

“ Anojmt  the  hawke  is  erys  with  oyle  of  olive,”  etc. 

Book  of  Hawking  {S^va..  Henry  VI. ),  A7itiq.  I.  296,  301. 

The  separation  effected,  is  was  aspirated,  and  supposed  to  be  the  pronoun.  A pigge 
bis  tayle  and  John  his  book  are  not  easily  distinguishable  from  a pigg-es  tayle  and 
Tolm-es  book.  Hence  the  confusion  of  the  two. 


246 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


The  formation  of  certain  other  possessive  pro- 
nouns is  somewhat  like  that  of  its.  These  are  the 
absolute  possessives  Jiers,  ours,  yours,  and  theirs,  all 
of  which  are  made  by  adding  the  singular  possessive 
sufhx  s to  an  already  possessive  form,  which  in  the 
last  three  is  plural  — a striking  irregularity.  These 
absolute  possessive  pronouns  are  thus  double  pos- 
sessives. The  others,  mine  and  thine,  are  only  old 
possessive  forms  which  have  been  set  apart  for  use 
absolutely.  It  is  in  analogy  with  them  that  the  vul- 
gar absolute  possessives  hisn,  her7t,  ourn,  yourn,  and 
theirn  are  formed.  Remarkably,  in  the  feminine 
personal  pronoun,  and  in  no  other,  both  the  posses- 
sive and  objective  relation  are  expressed  by  the  same 
form,  her.  This  results  from  the  fact  that  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  hire,  the  genitive  and  dative  of  heo^she,  took 
the  place  of  the  accusative  hi.  It  has  long  been  es- 
tablished that  the  objective  of  English  pronouns  was 
formed  upon  the  Anglo-Saxon  dative.  In  the  case  of 
heo,  however,  not  only  were  the  genitive  and  dative 
identical,  but  hire,  in  both  the  genitive  and  dative 
use,  went  through  the  same  changes,  hire,  heore,  here, 
hir  in  passing  into  her,  upon  which  hers  was  formed, 
and  which  has  long  been  used  provincially  as  a 
nominative.  This  identity  of  the  feminine  genitive 
and  dative  is  common  in  Anglo-Saxon  pronouns. 

To  these  illustrations  of  the  way  in  which  pro- 
nouns find  their  way  into  a language,  I will  add  one 
other  example  of  this  taking  of  a part  of  an  origi- 
nal word  as  a stem.  Had  we  lived  three  hundred 
years  ago,  we  should  have  said  about  the  season, 
July,  when  I am  writing,  that  we  liked  pison  for  din- 
ner. But  by  this  we  should  not  have  meant  tnat 
fluid  which  is  sung,  cold,  in  the  touching  ballad  of 
“ Villikins  and  his  Dinah,”  but  simply  peas;  and 


FORMATION  OF  PRONOUNS.  247 

we  should  have  pronounced  the  word,  rvoX.  fy-son, 
but  pec-son.  Pison  or  pisen  is  merely  the  old  plu- 
ral in  C7i  (like  oxen.,  brethren)  of  pise  — pronounced 
{pcese)  — the  name  of  the  vegetable  which  we  call 
pea.  Our  forefathers  said  a pise,  as  we  say  a pea. 
When  the  old  plural  in  en  was  dropped,  pise  (peese) 
came  to  be  regarded  as  a plural  in  5 of  a supposed 
singular,  pi  (pronounced  pee)  ; and  by  this  back- 
ward movement  toward  a non-existent  starting-point, 
we  have  attained  the  x^oxdipea. 

To. return  to  our  subject.  The  British  Parliament 
is  called  omnipotent,  and  a majority  may,  by  a 
single  vote,  change  the  so-called  British  Constitu- 
tion, as  a majority  of  Congress  may,  if  it  will,  set 
at  naught  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States. 
But  neither  Parliament  nor  Congress,  not  both  of 
them  by  a concurrent  vote,  could  make  or  modify 
a pronoun  in  the  language  common  to  the  nations 
for  which  they  legislate. 

I shall  endeavor  to  answer  another  and  a difficult 
question  which  has  been  lately  asked  as  to  the  for- 
mation of  pronouns.  Why  do  we  say  niysclj',  yotir^ 
self.,  ottrsclves,  using,  as  it  appears,  the  possessive 
form  of  the  pronoun,  and  yet  hinisclf^  themselves., 
using  the  objective?  No  reason  has  been  discov^- 
ered  for  this  anomaly ; but  its  history  is  traceable."^ 

* The  question  was  asked  by  Mr.  Edward  S.  Gould,  author  of  “Good  English,”  a 
book  full  of  counsel  and  criticism  that  justifies  its  title.  His  communication  ap- 
peared In  “The  Round  Table  ” of  April  10  ; and  the  above  reply,  forming  the  remain- 
der of  the  present  chapter,  appeared  April  24,  in  the  same  paper,  under  date  of 
Apdl  10.  An  explanation,  substantially  the  same,  was  subsequently  given  in  “The 
Rounil  Table”  of  June  5 by  Mr.  Th'mas  Davidson,  of  St.  Louis,  an  accomplished 
Echolai  and  etymologist,  who  thus  introduced  his  remarks : — 

“ Mr.  Gould’s  other  difficulty  is  one  which  he  shares  with  a very  large  number  of 
scholars.  It  is  a real  one,  and  I have  never  seen  in  any  book  a definite  solution  of 
it  I will,  therefore,  ask  leave  to  state,  at  some  length,  the  results  of  my  own  researches 


248 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


The  emphatic  compound  pronoun  has  come  directl}? 
down  to  us  from  the  Anglo-Saxon,  in  which  it  was 
formed  by  the  union,  although  not  the  compound- 
ing, of  the  pronoun  ic  (I),  and  the  pronominal 
adjective  5y^(self).  The  adjectival  force  of  the 
latter  word  continued  long  unimpaired.  ' In  the 
Ctirsor  Mund^',  a Middle  English  metrical  version 
of  parts  of  the  Bible,  Christ  says,  ”For  I am  self 
man  al  perfite,”  i.  I am  very  man  all  perfect ; and 
even  in  Twelfth  Night  Shakespeare  wrote,  "with 
one  self  king,”  which  the  revisors  of  the  text  for 
the  folio  of  1632,  not  apprehending,  altered  to  " with 
one  ^N-same  king.”  But  the  Anglo-Saxon  ic  (I) 
and  5y^(self)  were  both  declined;  and  when  they 
were  united  they  still  were  both  declined.  So,  as  we 
have  res-ftthlica^  rei-fuhlicce^  rcs-fuhlicce,  rerum- 
'puhlicarum^  and  so  forth,  in  Latin,  we  have  ic  syf 
min  sylfcs^  we  sylfe^  ure  syfra^  in  Anglo-Saxon';  the 
third  person  being,  in  the  singular,  — nom.  he  syf 
gen.  his  syfcs,  dat.  him  syfum,  acc.  June  syfne^ 
and  in  the  plural,  — nom.  hi  syfe^  gen.  hira  syfra, 
dat.  him  syfum^  or  heom  syfttm^  acc.  hi  syfe. 
But  by  the  process  of  phonetic  degradation  these 
double-case  inflections  were  broken  down,  and  a 
compound  emphatic  pronoun  was  formed,  not  from 
either  the  nominative  case  or  the  accusative,  but 


and  conclusions  in  regard  to  it,  acknowledging,  at  the  same  time,  my  indebtedness  to 
the  works  of  Koch,  M'itzner,  Grein,  and  other  German  scholars.”  ^ 

I am  thus  led  to  believe  that  my  own  solution  of  this  question  is  the  first  that  was 
g’-'en.  For  what  Mr.  Davidson  does  not  know  of  philological  literature  can  be  hardly 
worth  knowing ; and  I refer  to  his  article,  not  to  imply  that  he  took  any  hint  from 
mine  (than  which  hardly  any  supposition  could  be  more  presumptuous),  but  to  claim 
for  the  latter  the  support  of  a judgement  formed  by  his  acumen  and  research,  and  rest- 
ing on  the  labors  of  the  learned  German  philologists  whom  he  mentions,  and  with 
whose  works  I am  unacquainted. 


FORMATION  OF  PRONOUNS.  249 

from  the  dative  or  the  genitive ; the  result  being, 
not  I-sclf^  we-scivcs,  hc-sclf^  they-selves^  etc.,  but 
myself  {me  sylfiuii)^  ourselves  {tire  sylfrum)^ 
himself  {himsylfuni)  ^ themselves  {heotn  sylfum)  ^ 
and  so  forth ; but  us-selven  appears  in  Henry  Ill’s 
proclam'ation  A.  D.  1258,  Later  we  find  such  forms 
as  ich-silf  and  me-silf,  thu-silf  and  the-self  alternat- 
ing. Within  a century,  however,  we  find  the 
modern  form  fully  established.  Thus,  in  the  ro- 
mance of  Sir  Perceval  of  GalleSy  about  A.  D. 
•1350:  — 

“ Sone  thou  hast  takyne  thy  rede 
To  do  thiselfe  to  the  dede.” 

“ His  stede  es  in  stable  sett 
And  hymselfe  to  the  haulle  fett.” 

“ The  sowdane  sayse  he  will  her  ta. 

The  lad}’-  wille  hir-selfe  sla, 

Are  he  that  is  her  maste  fa  [i.  e.,  greatest  foe] 
Solde  wedd  hir  to  wyfe.” 

“ Ane  unwyse  man,  he  sayd,  am  I 
That  puttis  myselfe  to  siche  a foly.” 

What  determined  the  selection  of  the  case  form 
for  preservation  can  only  be  conjectured.  It  ma}’ 
have  been  accident ; but  mere  accident  has  little 
influence  upon  the  course  of  language ; and  the 
notion  that  self  expressed  an  identity  possessed  by 
or  pertaining  to  the  subject  of  the  pronoun  may  have 
led  to  the  choice  of  the  genitive  or  the  dative  case, 
and  this  selection  may  have  been  helped  by  con- 
siderations of  euphony,  or  ease  of  utterance. 

The  vulgar  use  of  Jiis-selfy  as,  for  example,  “ Sam 
was  a-cleanin  of  his-self,”  springs  from  the  notion 
of  the  substantive  character  of  selfy  and  is  not  an 


250 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


error  that  illiterate  people  have  fallen  into,  but  a 
remnant  of  an  old  usage ; educated  people,  as  well 
as  the  uneducated,  having  very  early  framed  their 
speech  upon  this  notion.  Thus  in  Bishop  Bale’s 
" English  Votaries  : ” ” But  Marianus  sayth  she 
was  a presbyteresse,  or  a prieste’s  leman,  to  save 
the  honour  of  that  ordre,  by  cause  he  was  a monk  his 
selfe'"'  (fol.  91,  ed.  1560,  et  fassim)  ; and  Tyndale 
in  his  version  of  the  Bible  has  (Job  xxii.  24),  " Yee 
the  Allmightie  his  own  selfe  shall  be  thy  harvest.” 

I have  called  this  use  of  the  pronoun  an  idiom  of 
our  language ; but  it  has  a parallel  in  the  French 
use  of  7noi^  toi,  and  liii.  The  French  do  not  say 
je  meme^  tu  mhnc^  il  menie^  but  moi  meme^  tot 
memc^  lui  mhne^  in  which  the  pronouns  are  dative 
forms,  the  remnants  of  the  Latin  mihi^  tibi,  and  illi. 
But  in  old  French  the  nominative  was  used.  I 
have  carefully  examined  early  French  chansons  and 
romans^  including  the  Chanson  de  Roland  and  the 
Roman  dc  Tristati^  and  have  found  not  a single 
instance  of  moi^  toi,  or  hii  used  other  than  objec- 
tively, and  generally  after  a preposition,  The 
modern  Frenchman  says  ni  moi : his  forefathers, 
eight  hundred  years  ago,  said  ne  io,  where  the  pro- 
noun is  a degraded  form  of  ego,  which  became  jo, 
and  finally  je;  so  that,  according  to  coiTect  lineal 
descent,  the  modern  French  should  be  ni  je, 
Louis  XIV.  said,  LRtat,  dest  7noi ; Hugh  Capet, 
would  have  said,  cst  jo  ; as  the  King  of  Spain  still 
signs  himself,  grandly,  Yo  el  Key.  Is  it  not  pos- 
sible, therefore,  that  in  the  phrase,  not  entirely 
vulgar.  It  is  me,  which  Dean  Alford  has  defended 
on  insufficient  grounds,  and  Mr.  Moon  has  at- 


some:. 


251 


tacked  without  sufficient  knowledge,  the  pronoun 
is  not  a misused  accusative,  but,  as  in  the  exactly 
correspondent  French  phrase,  a remnant  of  the 
dative  ? It  is  me  is  not  Anglo-Saxon  certainly,  in 
which  language  we  have  Ice  eo7n  Jiit^  a form  pre- 
served by  early  English  writers  of  repute.  But  if  I 
remember  rightly,  the  phrase  in  question  may  be 
traced  back  to  a very  respectable  antiquity. 

We  find,  then,  that  hifnsclf  and  themselves  are 
not  objective  or  accusative  forms,  but  remnants  of 
a dative  form,  which,  by  phonetic  degradation,  have 
become,  so  to  speak,  the  nominative  cases  of  inde- 
clinable emphatic  pronouns  of  the  third  person.  So 
herself  is  not  possessive,  but  a like  remnant  of  a 
dative  form.  Itsef  notably,  is  not  possessive,  not 
a compound  of  its  and  self  it  having  been  used 
for  centuries  before  the  appearance  of  its  in  the  lan- 
guage. And  until  a very  late  period,  after  A.  D. 
1600,  it  was  written  separately,  it  self  We  do  use 
self  with  a possessive,  as  "Caesar’s  self;  ” and  our 
Anglo-Saxon  forefathers  joined  it  to  proper  names, 
as  Petrus  syf  Crist  sylf  But  here  I must  stop, 
not  only  to  avoid  prolixity,  but  because  the  etymol- 
ogy and  relations  of  self  is  one  of  the  most  difficult 
and  least  understood  subjects  in  the  history  of  our 
language. 

SOME. 

Several  correspondents  have  asked  me,  in  the 
words  of  one  of  them,  " not  to  forget  the  word 
that  is  more  misused  than  any  other  in  our  lan- 
guage ' — so7ue.  Thus,”  my  correspondent  contin- 
ues, "people  say  (writers  as  well  as  speakers) 


252 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


there  were  some  six  or  seven  hundred  persons  pres- 
ent, there  are  some  ninety  vessels,  when  they  mean 
ahout^  or  when  some  is  entirely  superfluous.”  This 
use  of  the  word  has  also  been  recently  denounced 
by  some  British  writers  on  language,  who,  how- 
ever, have  given  no  good  reasons  for  their  objec- 
tion.'’, although  one  of  them  calls  attention  to  the 
fact  that  some  of  our  best  writers  are  using  the 
word  carelessly.  Let  us  look  a little  into  the  his- 
tory and  the  radical  signification  of  this  word,  and 
trace  this  use  of  it. 

We  hear  all  around  us,  among  well-educated 
people  of  good  English  stock,  but  who  give  them- 
selves no  care  about  their  use  of  words,  speaking 
their  mother  tongue  merely  as  they  have  learned 
it  from  the  mouths  of  their  kinsfolk  and  acquaint- 
ance, such  phrases  as  some  three  or  four,  some 
few.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  whose  English,  as 
well  as  whose  thought,  merits  the  attention  and  ad- 
miration of  his  readers,  says  " some  fifty  ” in  a pas- 
sage in  "The  Guardian  Angel.”  Thackeray, 
in  one  of  his  lectures  on  the  Qrieen  Anne  Wits,  has 
this  passage  : — 

“ And  some  five  miles  on  the  road,  as  the  Exeter  fly  comes 
iingling  and  creaking  onwards,  it  will  suddenly  be  brought  to  a 
halt  by  a gentleman  on  a gray  mare,”  etc.,  etc. 

Prior  closes  his  epigram  on  " Phillis’s  Age  ” with 
the  line  — 

“And  Phyllis  is  some  forty-three.” 

Bacon  is  quoted  by  Dr.  Johnson  (not  upon  this 
point,  however)  as  using  not  only  the  phrase  " some 
two  thousand,”  but  "some  good  distance,”  "some 


SOME.  253 

p^ood  while;”  and  Raleigh,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
has  the  following  passage  : — 

“Being  encountered  with  a strong  storm  some  eight  leagues 
to  the  westward  of  Sicily,  I held  it  office  of  a commander  to  take 
a port.” 

Shakespeare,  in  "Richard  III.,”  writes, — 

“ Has  she  forgot  already  that  brave  prince, 

Edward  her  lord,  whom  I,  some  three  months  since, 
Stabbed  in  my  angry  mood  at  Tewksbury?” 

and  in  "Twelfth  Night,”  — 

“ Some  four  or  five  attend  on  him : 

All,  if  you  will.” 

If  a man  sin  against  the  English  language  b}’’ 
using  some  in  the  manner  in  question,  he  will  do  it 
in  very  good  company  ; and  is  it  not  better  to  sin 
with  the  elect  than  to  be  righteous  with  the  repro- 
bate? But  in  the  determination  of  such  a question 
as  this  we  must  not  defer  to  mere  usage.  I repeat 
that  there  is  a misuse  of  language  which  can  be 
justified  by  no  authority. 

Some  is  one  of  the  oldest  simple,  underived,  un- 
compounded, and  unmodified  words  in  the  English 
language,  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  part  of  which  it  can 
be  traced  without  change,  as  som  or  stun^  generally 
the  latter,  for  a thousand  years.  Its  meaning  dur- 
ing that  whole  period  seems  not  to  have  been 
enlarged,  diminished,  or  inflected,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  in  either  popular  or  literary  usage.  That 
meaning  is  — an  indeterminate  quantity  or  number, 
greater  or  less,  considered  apart  from  the  whole 
existing  number.  Some  is  separative ; it  implies 
others,  and  contrasts  with  all.  It  is  segregative, 
and  sets  apart,  either  a number,  though  indefinite, 
from  another  and  generally  a larger  number,  or  an 


254 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


individual  person  or  thing  not  definite.  It  corre- 
sponds not  only  to  the  Latin  aliquanUim^  but  to 
qiiideyn  and  aliquis^  and  to  circiter.  Such  has  been 
its  usage  always  in  English  and  in  Anglo- vSaxon. 
Let  us,  for  instance,  examine  the  passage  in  the 
Gospels  about  the  centurion  and  his  sick  servant. 
It  begins  in  the  modern  version  (Luke  vii.  2), 
"And  a ccrtahi  centurion’s  servant,  who  was  dear 
unto  him,  was  sick.”  But  in  Wiclifle’s  English 
version,  made  about  A.  D.  1385,  we  find,  "Sothli, 
a servant  of  S2un  man  centurio  hauying  yvel.”  In 
the  Anglo-Saxon  version,  made  about  A.  D.  995,  it 
is,  " Da  waes  hundred  mannes  i?eowa  untrum.” 

Again,  in  the  same  Gospel  (ix.  19),  " Others  say  that 
one  of  the  old  prophets  is  risen  again;”  whicii,  in 
the  Ano'lo-Saxon  version,  is  "Sume  feast  sum  witeija 
of  bam  ealdum  aras.”  Here  the  Greek  word  trans- 
lated some  is  t/c,  which  the  Vulgate  renders  qui- 
dam;  and  the  meaning  is,  clearly  enough,  an 
indefinite  individual  of  a certain  class.  But  the 
word  may  be  used  to  set  apart  indefinitely  two,  or 
five,  or  fifty  individuals,  as  well  as  one.  We  may 
say,  a certain  five,  or  a certain  fifty,  as  well  as  a 
certain  one  ; and  so,  some  five  or  some  fifty.  And 
such,  we  find,  was  the  very  best  and  oldest  Anglo- 
Saxon  usage.  King  Alfred,  first  in  scholarship  as 
well  as  in  the  state,  and  the  writer  of  the  purest 
Anglo-Saxon  that  has  come  down  to  us,  translated, 
from  the  Latin,  Bede’s  account  of  Caedmon,  the 
Anglo-Saxon  sacred  poet,  which  begins  (in  Eng- 
lish) thus : — 

“In  this  abbess’s  minster  was  a certain  brother  q quidam  fra.' 
ter  ’)  notably  glorified  and  honored  with  a divine  gift,”  etc. 


SOME. 


255 


I’his  Alfred  renders  thus  : — 

•*  On  f>isse  abbuddissan  mynstre  waes  sum  broJJor  synderlice 
mid  godcunde  gyfe  gemsered  et  geweorjjad.”  v 

In  his  translation  of  Boethius  (I  cite  here  from 
Bosvvorth)  he  has  the  following  passage  : — 

“ pa  woeron  hi  sume  ten  gear  on  pam  gewinne.” 

That  is,  Then  they  were  some  ten  years  in  the 
war.  I find,  also,  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle 
this  passage,  which  relates  to  the  year  605,  but  was 
written  about  A.  D.  805  : — 

“ paer  man  slob  eac  cc  preosta  pa  comon  2?ider  paet  her  scoldan 
ge  biddan  for  Walana  here.  Scromail  waes  gehaten  hyra  ealdor, 
se  aet  baeerst  Sonou  fiftiga  sum” 

That  is,  "There  they  slew,  also,  two  hundred 
priests,  who  came  thither  that  they  might  pray  for 
the  British  army.  Their  prince  was  named  Scro-^ 
mail,  at  whose  hands  some  fifty  were  slain.”  But 
the  word,  in  this  sense  of  a separated,  although  in- 
definite number  or  individual,  goes  far  back  beyond 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  to  the  Gothic,  spoken  by  the  peo- 
ple who  broke  into  Dacia,  and  settled  there  in  the 
second  century.  They  became  Christians  very 
early  — so  early  that  Ulphilas,  their  bishop,  a man 
of  preeminent  learning  and  ability,  made  a transla- 
tion of  the' Gospels  for  them  about  A.  D.  360,  which 
exists  in  a superb  manuscript,  written  in  silver  and 
golden  letters  upon  a light-purple  parchment,  and 
known  as  the  Codex  Argenteus.  Referring  to  the 
two  passages  from  Luke,  quoted  above,  we  find  that 
that  about  the  centurion  begins  thus  : — 

“ Hundafade  f)an  sumis  skalks  siukands,  swultawairt)hya;  ” 
and  that  about  John  the  Baptist  thus  : — 

“ Sumai  pan  fatei  praufetus  sums  pizQ  airizane  usstoj?.” 


256 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


That  is,  some  centurion,  some  prophet;  as  we 
might  say,  some  one  centurion  or  other,  some  two 
or  three  centurions.  So  that  the  Gothic  Ulphilas 
used  some  just  as  it  was  used  by  the  Anglo-Saxon 
Alfred  and  the  English  Wycliffe.  Returning  to  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  we  find  tliat  where  Moses  tells  us,  ac- 
cording to  our  modern  version  (Genesis  xlvi.  37), 
that  ” all  the  souls  of  the  house  of  Jacob  which  came 
into  Eg}^t  were  threescore  and  ten,”  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  translator  tells  us  that  there  were  "some 
seventy”  of  them  — " seofontigra  Our  ex- 

amination proves,  then,  that  this  use  of  sojne^  which 
is  objected  to,  in  so  many  quarters,  as  inelegant  and 
incorrect  English,  conforms  strictly  to  the  meaning 
which  the  word  has  had  among  speakers  and  the 
best  wTiters  ever  since  it  came  out  of  the  darkness  a 
thousand  and  half  a thousand  years  ago  ; that  it  can 
be  traced  from  Holmes  and  Thackeray,  through 
Shakespeare,  and  Bacon,  and  Wycliffe,  and  King 
Alfred,  to  Ulphilas,  the  Goth,  on  the  Dacian  banks 
of  the  Danube ; where,  we  may  be  sure,  the  Em- 
peror Julian  heard  it,  as,  during  the  life  of  Ulphilas, 
and  before  x\laric  came  upon  the  stage,  he  led  his 
victorious  legions  dowm  that  river,  after  his  splendid 
campaign  against  the  Germans,  which  so  revived 
the  somewhat  tarnished  lustre  of  the  Roman  arms. 
In  fact,  this  idiom,  as  well  as  this  word,  is  found, 
without  variation,  in  the  oldest  Teutonic  dialect 
known  to  us,  and  is,  at  least,  a thousand  years 
older  than  the  modern  English  language,  in  which 
it  has  been  preserved,  without  change,  both  in  the 
writings  of  scholars  and  in  the  common  speech  of  the 
people.  There  can  be  no  higher  authority,  no  better 


SOME. 


257 


reason,  for  any  word  or  form  of  language,  than  that 
it  springs  from  a simple  native  germ,  and  is  rooted 
in  the  usage  of  fifteen  hundred  years.  And  it  would 
be  difficult  to  find  in  any  tongue  another  word  or 
phrase  which  has  such  simplicity  of  origin  and 
stmcture,  and  such  length  of  authoritative  usage  in 
its  support,  as  this,  which  has  offended  the  ears  of 
some  half  a dozen  of  my  correspondents  and  some 
three  or  four  British  critics. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  enter  here  upon  the 
defence  of  good  English  words  and  phrases ; but 
I have  gone  somewhat  at  length  into  the  history  of 
this  phrase,  not  only  because  I hoped  it  might  be 
interesting  to  my  readers,  but  because  the  denuncia- 
tion of  the  usage  is  a noteworthy  example  of  the 
mistakes  that  may  be  made  by  purists  in  language. 
When  a word,  a phrase,  or  an  idiom  is  found  in  use 
both  in  common  speech  and  in  the  writings  of  edu- 
cated men,  we  may  be  almost  sure  that  there  is  good 
reason  for  the  usage.  But  cultivated  and  well- 
meaning  people  sometimes  take  a scunner  against 
some  particular  word  or  phrase,  as  we  have  seen 
in  this  case,  and  they  flout  it  pitilessly,  and  think 
in  their  hearts  that  it  is  the  great  blemish  upon  the 
speech  of  the  day. 

And,  b}^  the  bye,  one  of  my  critics,  and  one 
who  I fear  rates  my  judgment  and  my  knowledge 
much  above  their  desert,  finds  fault  with  my  own 
.English  (which  I am  far  from  setting  up  as  an 
example,  having  neither  time  nor  inclination  to 
" Blair-up  ” my  sentences),  because  I use  the  phrase 
first  rate  as  denoting  a high  degree  of  superiority, 
which  he  says  ” will  hardly  be  found  in  that  sense 

17 


2S8 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


in  serious  English  comp-osition,  certainly  not  until 
within  a comparative!)'  recent  period.”  This 
brought  to  my  mind  the  following  passage  from  Sii 
Walter  Scotfs  "Monastery”  (chapter  xxviii.)  : — •. 

“The  companion  of  Astrophel,  the  flower  of  the  tilt-jard  of 
Feliciana,  had  no  more  idea  that  his  graces  and  good  parts  could 
attach  the  love  of  Mysie  Happer  than  a first-rate  beauty  in  the 
boxes  dreams  of  the  fatal  wound  which  her  charms  may  inflict 
on  some  attorney’s  apprentice  in  the  pit;  ” 

and  this  also  from  Fielding’s  "Tom  Jones”  (chapter 
iv.):  — 

“ — and  she  was  indeed  a most  sensible  girl,  and  her  under- 
standing was  of  the  first  rate'' 

and  this  from  Farquhar  (“  Poems,  Letters  and  Es- 
says,” A.  D.  1700,  p.  14):  — 

“No  first-rate  beau  with  us,  drawn  by  his  six  before  and  his  six 
behind,”  etc. 

But  I had,  I need  hardly  say,  no  thought  of 
these  precedents  when  I wrote,  and  should  have 
used  the  phrase  without  scruple,  even  were  I sure 
that  it  had  never  been  used  before.  Too  much 
stress  is  generally  laid  upon  the  authority  of  mere 
previous  usage,  which  is  not  at  all  necessary  to  the 
justification  of  a good  word  or  phrase.  A lawyer 
of  distinction  once  said  to  me  that,  before  a jury,  he 
had  needed,  and  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  had 
made  and  used,  the  word  jiixta-pose^  adding  that  he 
had  no  business  to  do  so,  but  that  it  was  a pity  that 
there  was  no  such  word  in  the  language,  or,  as  he 
said,  in  the  dictionaries.  But  no  man  needs  the 
authority  of  a dictionary  (even  such  authority  as 
dictionaries  have),  or  of  previous  usage,  for  such 


ADJECTIVES  IN  EN. 


259 


a word  as  juxtapose.  It  is  involved  in  juxtafost- 
tion  as  much  as  intcrfose  and  transpose  are  in  in* 
tcj^'posiiion  and  transpositio7i.  The  mere  fact  that 
it  had  not  been  used  before  this  occasion,  or  rather 
that  no  maker  of  dictionaries  had  happened  to 
notice  it,  is  of  no  moment  whatever.  Any  man  has 
the  right  to  use  a word,  especially  a word  of  such 
natural  growth  and  so  well  rooted  as  juxtapose^  for 
the  first  time,  else  we  should  be  poorly  off  for 
language.  But  he  must  be  wary  and  sure  of  his 
ground  ; for  an  innovator  does  his  work  at  his  own 
proper  peril. 


ADJECTIVES  IN  EN. 

Unless  a stand  is  made  by  the  writers  and 
speakers  who  guide  the  course  of  language  (I 
mean  not  only  scholars  and  men  of  letters,  but  the 
great  mass  of  well-educated  and  socially-cultivated 
people),  we  shall  lose  entirely  a certain  class  of 
words — adjectives  in  C7t  formed  from  nouns  — 
which  contribute  much  to  the  usefulness  and  beauty 
of  our  language.  Thrcaden  is  hopelessly  gone, 
and,  rarely  needed,  will  be  little  missed.  Golden^ 
brazen^  leaden^  leathern^  wheaten^  oate^i^  2x\di  waxen 
are  in  more  or  less  advanced  stages  of  departure. 
They  all  appear  in  poetry,  but  are  not  often  used 
for  the  every-day  needs  of  life,  except  in  figurative 
language.  Most  people  would  say,  a gold  candle- 
stick, a brass  faucet,  a lead  pipe,  and  so  forth ; but 
a golden  harvest,  a brazen  face,  a leaden  sky. 
The  most  untaught  or  the  most  eccentric  person 
would  hardly  say,  a brass  face,  or  a lead  sky. 
The  adjective  in  en  seems  to  be  restricted  to  the 


26o 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


expression  of  likeness ; whereas  it  w^as  formed  to 
express  substance,  of  course  including  likeness. 
Golden^  meaning  made  of  gold,  and,  of  course, 
like  gold,  now  is  generally  used  to  mean  the  latter 
only ; and  for  the  former  sense  the  noun  gold 
is  used  as  an  adjective.  This  is  to  be  deplored,  not 
only  because  the  formation  in  question  is  one  of  the 
oldest  in  our  language,  but  because  its  loss  is  a real 
impoverishment  of  our  vocabulary,  compelling  us  to 
put  one  word  to  two  uses,  and  also  because  we  are 
thereby  deprived  of  what  we  much  need  — dis- 
syllables the  last  syllable  of  which  is  unaccented. 
In  proportion  as  a language  is  without  such  words, 
it  lacks  one  of  the  chief  elements  of  a flowing 
rhythm,  and  becomes  stiff  and  dialk-knuckled. 
Compare  the  sound  of  a golden  crown,  a leaden 
weight,  a wheaten  loaf,  with  that  of  a gold  crown, 
a lead  weight,  a wheat  loaf.  To  a person  who  has 
an  ear  for  rhythm  the  former  is  agreeable,  the 
latter  harsh  and  offensive.  To  any  one  the  former 
phrases  are  easier  of  utterance  than  the  latter. 
The  adjectives  in  cn  can  be  saved  if  we  will,  and 
they  are  well  worth  saving.  If  those  who  are 
strong  enough  do  not  stretch  out  their  hands  to 
them,  we  shall  soon  be  wearing  wool  clothes ; we 
shall  not  know  the  difference  between  a wooden 
house  and  a wood-house ; we  shall  be  talking  of 
the  North  States  and  the  South  States,  the  East  and 
the  West  States ; and  when  we  go  back  to  the  old 
well,  we  shall  find  there,  not  the  old  oaken  bucket, 
but  an  oak  bucket,  which,  in  losing  half  its  distinct 
tive  epithet,  will  have  lost  half  the  association,  and 
^11  the  beauty,  of  its  name.  In  an  old  inventory 


EITHER  AND  NEITHER. 


261 


before  me,  which  was  made  about  the  year  1600, 
there  are  these  items  : " A tynnen  quart,  lod.  ; a 
square  tynnen  pot,  6d.’^  Overbury,  in  his  " Charap- 
ters,”  writes  of  "pellets  in  eldern  guns;”  Tubervile 
of  " a pair  of  yarnen  socks.”  And  in  the  " Apology 
for  the  Lollards,”  supposed  to  have  been  written  by 
WyclifFe,  is  this  passage,  which  contains  a cluster 
of  adjectives  in  en  formed  from  substantives,  and 
used  by  our  forefathers  five  hundred  years  ago. 

“As  the  hethun  men  hed  sex  kyndis  of  similacris  clajen, 
treen,  brasun,  stonun,  silveren,  and  golden,  so  have  lordis  now 
sex  kjndis  of  prelatis.” 

It  is  difficult  to  see  why  silveren  should  have 
been  dropped,  and  brazen  and  golden  retained. 
Better  return  to  stonen  and  elayen  diud  yarne^i,  than 
golden  and  its  fellows. 

EITHER  AND  NEITHER. 

Either  is  a singular  word.  It  expresses,  and  from 
Anglo-Saxon  times  has  expressed,  in  the  best  usage, 
one  of  two  and  both  of  two.  As  both  means  two 
taken  together,  so  either  means  two  considered  sep- 
arately. Thus,  "On  either  side  of  the  river  was 
the  tree  of  life,”  means  that  the  tree  grew  on  both 
sides  alike;  but,  "Take  either  side  of  the  river,” 
means  that  one  or  the  other  of  the  two  sides  may 
be  taken.  It  is  well  to  assert  this  claim  for  ei- 
ther^ because  it  has  been  questioned  by  some  pu- 
rists. It  is  almost  impossible  to  explain  how  this 
word  means  both  one  and  two,  and  how  it  can 
yet  be  used  without  causing  any  confusion  for  in- 
telligent people.  Either^  being  compounded  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  aeg,  every,  and  hwaeper,  which  of  twO; 


262 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


and  so  meaning  every  which,  or  one,  of  two,  should, 
strictly,  be  used  only  with  reference  to  two  objects. 
Neither^  being  but  the  negative  of  either^  conforms 
to  like  usage.  But  for  a very  long  period,  they, 
particularly  the  latter,  have  been  used  by  our  best 
writers  in  relation  to  more  than  two  objects.  For 
example,  — 

“ Which  of  them  [the  ancient  Fathers]  ever  said  that  neither 
kings,  nor  the  whole  clergy,  nor  yet  all  the  people  together  are  able 
to  be  judges  over  you?”  — Bishop  Jewell’s  Apology^  Part  V.  c.  5. 

“ — their  main  business  [that  of  sacred  writers]  is  to  abstract 
man  from  this  world,  and  to  persuade  him  to  prefer  the  bare  hope 
of  what  he  can  neither  hear,  see,  nor  conceive,  before  all  present 
enjoyments  this  world  can  afford.”  — Hobbes’s  Liberty  and  Ne- 
cessity, Epistle. 

“ Independent  morals  are  to  be  neither  Catholic,  Evangelic, 
Buddhist,  nor  Atheistic.”  — Saturday  Review,  October  31,  1S69. 

“ — this  new  and  ambitious  organ  attacks  neither  Protestants 
like  M.  Guizot,  Catholics  like  its  orthodox  readers,  Israelites  like 
M.  Rothschild,  nor  Atheists  like  M.  Prudhon.”  — Idem.  , 

This  use  of  these  words,  although  not  defensible 
on  any  other  grounds  than  those  of  convenience  and 
custom,  seems  likely  to  prevail,  and  it  were  well 
if  no  graver  errors  had  been  sanctioned  by  the  au- 
thority of  eminent  writers.  Either,  used  separately, 
IS  responded  to  by  or,  and  neither  by  nor ; thus  — 
either  this  or  that,  neither  this  nor  that.  This  rule, 
which  is  absolute,  is  frequently  violated.  Some 
people,  not  uneducated,  seem  to  think  that  if  either 
has  been  preceded  by  a negation,  it  should  be  fol- 
lowed by  nor.  They  would  write,  for  instance,  a 
passage  in  Bacon’s  ”New  Atlantis”  thus:  "We 
never  heard  of  any  ship  that  had  been  seen  to  arrive 
upon  any  shore  of  Europe;  no,  nor  of  either  the 
East  nor  the  West  Indies.”  But  Bacon  wrote,  cor- 


EITHER  AND  NEITHER. 


263 


rectly,  ” nor  of  either  the  East  or  the  West  Indies.” 
The  introduction  of  a second  nor  in  such  sentences 
involves  the  use  of  two  negatives  in  the  same  asser- 
tion. It  is  like,  He  hadn’t  none. 

The  pronunciation  of  either  and  neither  has  been 
much  disputed,  but,  it  would  seem,  needlessly.  The 
best  usage  is  even  more  controlling  in  pronunciation 
than  in  other  departments  of  language ; but  usage 
itself  is  guided,  although  not  constrained,  by  anal- 
ogy.  The  analogically  correct  pronunciation  of 
these  words  is  what  we  call  the  Irish  one,  ayther  and 
nayther ; the  diphthong  having  the  sound  which  it 
has  in  many  words  in  which  ei  is,  and  apparently 
has  always  been  so  pronounced  — zveight^  freight y 
deigny  vein^  oheisanccy  etc.  This  sound,  too,  has 
come  down  from  Anglo-Saxon  times,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  the  word  in  that  language  being 
ijegfer ; and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  in  this,  as 
in  some  other  respects,  the  language  of  the  educated 
Irish  Englishman  is  analogically  correct,  and  in 
conformity  to  ancient  custom.  His  pronunciation 
of  certain  syllables  in  ei  which  have  acquired  in 
English  usage  the  sound  of  e long,  as,  for  example, 
conceit y receivey  and  which  he  pronounces  consayty 
resayvey  is  analogically  and  historically  correct.  E 
had  of  old  the  sound  of  a long,  and  i the  sound  of 
Cy  particularly  in  words  which  came  to  us  from  or 
through  the  Norman  French.  But  ayther  and  nay- 
^hery  being  antiquated  and  Irish,  analogy  and  the 
best  usage  require  the  common  pronunciation  eetHier 
•tnd  neether.  For  the  pronunciation  i-ther  and  ni~ 
thery  with  the  i long,  which  is  sometimes  heard, 
Uiere  is  no  authority,  either  of  analogy  or  of  the 


264 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


best  speakers.  It  is  an  affectation,  and  in  this  coun- 
try, a copy  of  a second-rate  British  affectation. 
Persons  of  the  best  education  and  the  hio-hest 

O 

social  position  in  England  generally  say  eether  and 
neether. 


SHALL  AND  WILL. 

The  distinction  between  these  words,  although 
very  clear  when  it  is  once  apprehended,  is  liable  to 
be  disregarded  by  persons  who  have  not  had  the 
advantage  of  early  intercourse  with  educated  Eng- 
lish people.  I mean  English  in  blood  and  breeding ; 
for,  as  the  traveller  found  that  in  Paris  even  the 
children  could  speak  French,  so  in  New  England  it 
is  noteworthy  that  even  the  boys  and  girls  playing 
on  the  commons  use  shall  and  will  correctly  ; and 
in  New  York,  New  Jersey,  and  Ohio,  in  Virginia, 
Maryland,  and  South  Carolina,  fairly  educated 
people  of  English  stock  do  the  same ; while  by 
Scotchmen  and  Irishmen,  even  when  they  are  pro- 
fessionally men  of  letters,  and  by  the  great  mass  of 
the  people  of  the  Western  and  South-western  States, 
the  words  are  used  without  discrimination,  or,  if 
discrimination  is  attempted,  will  is  given  the  place 
of  shall ^ and  vice  versa.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted 
that  an  English  scholar  of  Mr.  Marsh’s  eminence 
should  have  expressed  the  opinion  that  the  distinc- 
tion between  these  words  ” has,  at  present,  no  logical 
value  or  significance  whatever,”  and  have  ventured 
the  prediction  that  " at  no  very  distant  day  this 
rerbal  quibble  will  disappear,  and  that  one  of  the 
auxiliaries  will  be  employed  with  all  persons  of  the 
nominative,  exclusively  as  the  sign  of  the  future, 


SHALL  AND  WILL.  265 

and  the  other  only  as  an  expression  of  purpose  or 
authority.” 

The  distinction  between  shall  and  will^  as  aux- 
iliary verbs  to  be  used  with  various  persons  as  nom- 
inatives, is  a verbal  quibble,  just  as  anj^  distinction 
is  a quibble  to  persons  too  ignorant,  too  dull,  or  too 
careless  for  its  apprehension.  So,  and  even  yet  more, 
is  the  distinction  between  be^  ain^  art^  is,  and  are,  a 
quibble.  All  these  words  express  exactly  the  same 
thought  — that  of  present  existence.  Why,  there 
fore,  should  not  the  distinction  between  them,  which 
assigns  them  to  various  persons  as  nominatives,  be 
swept  away,  so  that,  instead  of  entangling  ourselves 
in  the  subtle  intricacies  of  I ain,  thoii  art,  he  is,  we 
are,  yo2i  are,  they  are,  which  are  of  no  logical  val- 
ue or  significance,  we  may  say,  with  all  the  charm 
and  the  force  of  simplicity,  I be,  thou  be,  he  be,  we 
he,  you  be,  they  be  I — as,  in  fact,  some  very  worthy 
people  do,  and  manage  to  make  themselves  under- 
stood. Why,  indeed,  should  we  suffer  a smart 
little  verbal  shock  when  the  Irish  servant  says, 
"Will  I put  some  more  coal  on  the  fire?”  And 
why  should  we  be  so  hard-hearted  as  to  laugh  at 
the  story  of  the  Frenchman,  who,  falling  into  the 
water,  cried  out,  as  he  was  going  down,  " I vill 
drown,  and  nobody  shall  help  me”?  But  those 
who  have  genuine,  well-trained  English  tongues  and 
ears  are  shocked,  and  do  laugh.  The  reason  of 
the  distinction  is  regarded  by  most  writers  upon 
language  as  very  difficult  of  explanation.  Essays 
have  been  written  upon  the  question  ; Sir  Edmund 
Head  even  made  a little  book  about  it ; but  no  one 
has  yet  traced  the  usage  to  its  origin  so  clearly  as 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


'/Db 

to  satisfy  all  philologists.  Without  pretending  tc 
do  what  so  many  others  have  failed  to  do,  I shall 
give  the  explanation  that  is  satisfactory  to  me. 

Tlie  radical  signification  of  will  (Anglo-Saxon 
willan)  is  purpose,  intention,  determination  ; that  of 
shall  (Anglo-Saxon  sceal,  ought)  is  obligation.  I 
will  do  means,  I purpose  doing  — I am  determined 
to  do.  I shall  do  means,  radically,  I ought  to  do; 
and  as  a man  is  supposed  to  do  what  he  sees  he 
ought  to  do,  I shall  do  came  to  mean,  I am  about 
doing  — to  be,  in  fact,  a mere  announcement  of 
future  action,  more  or  less  remote.  But  so  you  shall 
do  means,  radically,  you  ought  to  do  ; and  therefore 
unless  we  mean  to  impose  an  obligation  or  to 
announce  an  action  on  the  part  of  another  person, 
over  whom  we  claim  some  control,  shall ^ in  speak- 
ing of  the  mere  future  voluntary  action  of  another 
person,  is  inappropriate ; and  we  therefore  say 
you  will^  assuming  that  it  is  the  volition  of  the 
other  person  to  do  thus  or  so.  lienee,  in  merely 
announcing  future  action,  we  say,  I or  we  shalU 
you,  he,  or  they  will ; and,  in  declaring  purpose  on 
our  own  part,  or  on  the  part  of  another,  obligation, 
or  inevitable  action,  which  we  mean  to  control, 
we  say,  I or  we  wilU  yoR?  he,  or  they  shall.  Ofli- 
cial  orders,  which  are  in  the  form  you  will.,  are  but 
a seeming  exception  to  this  rule  of  speech,  which 
they,  in  fact,  illustrate.  For  in  them  the  courtes}"  of 
superior  to  subordinate,  carried  to  the  extreme  even 
in  giving  command,  avoids  tlie  semblance  of  com- 
pulsion, while  it  assumes  obedience  in  its  very 
language.  Should  and  would  follow,  of  course,  the 


SHALL  AND  WILL. 


267 


fortunes  of  shall  and  zuill ; and,  in  the  following 
short  dialogue,  I have  given,  I believe,  easily- 
apprehended  examples  of  all  the  proper  uses  of 
these  words,  the  discrimination  of  which  is  found  by 
some  persons  so  difficult.  A husband  is  supposed 
to  be  trying  to  induce  his  reluctant  wife  to  go  from 
their  suburban  home  to  town  for  a day  or  two. 

He.  I shall  go  to  town  to-morrow.  Of  course  you  will  ? 

S//e.  No,  thanks.  I shall  not  go.  I shall  wait  for  better 
weather,  if  that  will  ever  come.  When  shall  we  have  three  fair 
days  together  again.? 

He.  Don’t  mind  that.  You  should  go.  I should  like  to  have 
you  hear  Ronconi. 

She.  No,  no;  I Avill  not  go. 

He.  \^To  himself.^  But  yovi  shall  go,  in  spite  of  the  weather 
and  of  yourself.  \^To  ker.'\  Well,  remember,  if  you  should 
change  your  mind,  I should  be  very  happy  to  have  your  com- 
pany. Do  come;  you  will  enjoy  the  opera;  and  you  shall  have 
the  nicest  possible  supper  at  Delmonico’s. 

She.  No ; I should  not  enjoy  the  opera.  There  are  no  sing- 
ers worth  listening  to;  and  I wouldn’t  walk  to  the  end  of  the 
drive  for  the  best  supper  Delmonico  will  ever  cook.  A man 
seems  to  think  that  any  human  creature  would  do  anything  for 
something  good  to  eat. 

He.  Most  human  creatures  will. 

She.  I shall  stay  at  home,  and  you  shall  have  your  opera  and 
your  supper  all  to  yourself. 

He.  Well,  if  you  will  stay  at  home,  you  shall;  and  if  you 
won’t  have  the  supper,  you  shan’t.  But  my  trip  will  be  dull 
without  you.  I shall  be  bored  to  death  — that  is,  unless,  indeed, 
your  friend  Mrs.  Dashatt  Mann  should  go  to  town  to-morrow, 
as  she  said  she  thought  that  she  would;  then,  perhaps,  we  shall 
meet  at  the  opera,  and  she  and  her  nieces  will  sup  with  me. 

She.  \To  herself My  dear  friend  Mrs.  Dashatt  Mann  ! And 
so  that  woman  will  be  at  her  old  tricks  with  my  husband  again. 
But  she  shall  find  that  I am  mistress  of  this  situation,  in  spite 
of  her  big  black  eyes  and  her  big  white  shoulders.  \_To  him.'\ 
John,  why  should  you  waste  yourself  upon  those  ugly,  giggling 
girls.?  To  be  siu'e,  5>^e’5  a fine  woman  enough;  that  is,  if  you 
loill  buy  your  beauty  b3'  the  pound , but  they ! 

He.  O,  think  what  I will  about  that,  I must  take  them,  for 


268 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


politeness,’  sake;  and,  indeed,  although  the  lady  is  a matron,  it 
wouldn’t  be  quite  proper  to  take  her  alone  — would  it?  What 
should  you  say? 

She.  Well,  not  exactly,  perhaps.  But  it  don’t  much  matter; 
she  can  take  care  of  herself,  I should  think.  She’s  no  chicken* 
she’ll  never  see  thirty-five  again.  But  it’s  too  bad  you  should  be 
bored  with  her  nieces  — and  since  you’re  bent  on  having  me  go 
with  you  — and  — after  all,  I should  like  to  hear  Ronconi  — and 
— you  shan’t  be  going  about  with  those  cackling  girls  — well, 
John,  dear.  I’ll  go. 

The  only  pa'ssage  in  this  colloquy  which  seems 
to  me  to  need  a word  of  explanation,  is  that  in 
which  the  lady  says  to  herself  that  her  friend  Mrs. 
D.  Mann  shall  find”  that  some  one  else  is  mistress 
of  the  situation.  It  would  have  been  quite  correct 
for  the  wife  to  say  ” she  will  find,”  etc.  But,  in 
that  case,  she  would  merely  have  expressed  an 
opinion  as  to  a future  occurrence.  By  using  shall., 
she  not  only  predicts  with  emphasis,  but  claims  the 
power  to  make  her  prediction  good.  I have  given 
my  readers  this  colloquy,  because  more  can  be 
gained  toward  the  proper  use  of  these  words 
through  example  than  from  precept.  It  seems 
to  be  instinctively  apprehended  — imbibed.  Asso- 
ciation and  early  habit  cause  many  people,  who  are 
far  from  being  well  educated,  and  who  are  entirely 
unconscious  as  to  their  speech,  to  be  unerring  in 
dieir  use  of  this  idiom,  which,  in  my  judgment, 
is  one  of  the  finest  in  the  language. 

It  is  violated  with  conspicuous  perversity  in  the 
following  examples.  The  first  is  from  Coverdale’s 
version  of  the  Bible  : — 

“And  Gedeon  sayde  unto  God,  Yf  thou  wilt  delyuer  Israel 
thorow  my  hande,  as  thou  hast  saide,  then  wil  I laye  a llese  of 
woll  in  the  courte  : yf  y*^  dew  be  onely  upon  ye  fiese,  and  dry  upon 


SHALL  AND  WILL.  269 

all  the  grounde,  then  'ivyll  I perceaue  that  thou  skalt  deljvet 
Israll  thorow  my  hande,  as  thou  hast  said.”  — Judges  vi. 

Here,  in  the  last  sentence,  will  is  used  for  shalh 
and  shall  for  wilt.  Gideon  meant  to  express  merely 
a future  occurrence  in  both  cases,  and  to  imply 
no  will  on  his  own  part,  and  no  obligation  on  God’s. 
And  thus,  in  the  King  James  version  of  the  same 
passage,  we  have  "then  shall  I know  that  thou  wilt 
save  Israel.” 

The  next  example  is  from  a "Narrative  of  a 
Grand  Festival  at  Yarmouth,”  in  honor  of  the 
victory  of  Waterloo  (Yarmouth,  1815). 

“ Every  individual  was  requested  to  take  his  place  at  the  table,  ^ 
. . . and  it  was  requested  that  no  persons  -would  leave  tlieir  seats 
during  dinner.” 

Here  the  right  word  is  should^  as  would  and 
should  follow  the  regimen  of  will  and  shall,  and  we 
request  that  people  shall  do  thus  or  so,  not  that  they 
will  do  it.  A similar  error  appears  in  the  following 
extract  from  an  account  published  in  the  " New 
York  Tribune”  of  the  interview  between  President 
Grant  and  a committee  of  Pennsylvanians  who 
waited  upon  him  to  urge  the  importance  of  appoint- 
ing a Pennsylvanian  to  a place  in  the  Cabinet. 

“ They  intended  making  no  suggestions  or  recommendations 
further  than  that  if  Pennsylvania  was  to  be  represented,  the  ap- 
pointment -would  be  given  to  a man  who  should  be  known  as  an 
unflinching  supporter  of  the  Republican  party.” 

These  disinterested  gentlemen  meant  to  say,  and 
perhaps  did  say,  that  they  recommended  that  the 
appointment  should  be  given  to  a man  who  would 
be  known  as  a thorough-going  party-man. 

The  next  passage,  which  is  from  an  article  in 


270 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


"The  World  ” on  the  last  change  in  the  British 
embassy  at  Washington,  contains  an  example  of  a 
monstrous  misuse  of  will. 

“ Mr.  Thornton  was  without  any  suiVe,  as  it  is  intended  that 
the  staff  or  legation  formerly  attached  to  Sir  Frederick  Bruce 
will  act  under  the  orders  of  Mr.  Thornton  until  further  news 
from  the  Foreign  Office.” 

Without  doubt,  the  writer  meant  that  it  is  intended 
that  the  staff  shall  act,  etc.  The  intention  was  to 
lay  a future  obligation  upon  the  members  of  the 
legation.  We  cannot  intend  what  others  will  do. 

Another  New  York  journalist,  not  improbably  an 
Irishman,  exclaims,  as  these  pages  are  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  press,  — 

“ When  will  we  get  through  with  the  everlasting,  tedious,  un- 
profitable, and  demoralizing  Byron  controversy.?” 

He  meant.  When  shall  we  get  through  with  it? 

There  is  a fine  use  of  shall.,  the  force  of  which 
escapes  some  intelligent  and  cultivated  readers. 
An  example  is  found  in  the  following  passage  from 
a number  of  " The  Spectator,”  written  by  Addison  : 
" There  is  not  a girl  in  town,  but,  let  her  have  her 
will  in  going  to  a mask,  and  she  shall  dress  like  a 
shepherdess.”  Upon  this  even  the  acute  and  gen- 
erally sound  Crombie  remarks  in  his  "'Etymology 
and  Syntax  of  the  English  Language  ” (p.  398, 
ed.  1830),  "It  should  be  'she  zuill.^  The  author 
intended  to  signify  mere  futurity  ; instead  of  which 
he  has  expressed  a command.”  But  mere  futurity 
was  not  what  Addison  meant  to  express,  nor  did  he 
express  a command.  He  meant  to  assert  strongly  ; 
and  therefore,  instead  of  the  word  will.,  which  with 
the  third  person  predicates  simple  futurity,  he  used 


SHALL  AND  WILL. 


271 


shall ^ which  implies  more  or  less  of  obligation,  — ■ 
here  a propensity  so  strong  as  to  control  action. 
So  in  the  Urquhart  translation  of  Rabelais,  a mas- 
terpiece of  idiomatic  English,  we  find  (Book  I. 
c.  17),  ” A blind  fiddler  shall  draw  a greater  conflm 
ence  together  than  an  evangelical  preacher.”  So 
Dr.  Johnson  says,  in  the  Preface  to  his  Dictionary, 
that  it  should  be  considered, — 

“ — that  sudden  fits  of  inadvertency  will  surprise  vigilance, 
slight  avocations  will  seduce  attention,  and  casual  ellipses  of  the 
mind  will  darken  learning;  and  that  the  writer  shall  often  in 
vain  trace  his  memory  at  the  moment  of  need  for  that  which 
yesterday  he  knew  with  intuitive  readiness,  and  which  will  come 
uncalled  into  his  thoughts  to-morrow.” 

Here  will  is  used  in  three  clauses,  and  shall  in 
one,  to  express  the  same  relation  of  time  in  the  third 
person  ; but  the  latter  clause  would  lose  much  of  its 
significance  if  will  were  to  take  in  it  the  place  of 
shall.  And  in  the  prophecy  of  Isaiah,  " He  shall  feed 
his  flock  like  a shepherd  . . . and  shall  gently  lead 
all  those  that  are  with  young,”  how  much  of  its 
grandeur,  as  well  as  of  its  power  of  assurance,  would 
be  lost,  if  will  were  substituted  for  shall ! Bishop 
Jewell  nicely  discriminates  (but  intuitively,  we  may 
be  sure)  between  shall  and  will  thus  used,  in  the 
following  passage  in  one  of  his  sermons  : — 

Let  us  turne  to  him  with  an  upright  heart.  So  shal  he  turne 
to  us;  so  shal  we  walke  as  the  children  of  light;  so  shall  we 
shine  as  the  sunne  in  the  kingdome  of  our  father;  so  shall  God 
be  our  God,  and  will  abide  witn  us  forever.”  — Ed.  15S3,  fol.  q.  iii. 

An  example  of  this  distinction,  unsurpassed  in 
delicacy  and  exactness,  and  consequent  effect,  is 
found  in  the  following  passage,  — my  memorandum 
of  the  source  of  which  is  unfortunately  lost,  — and 


272 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


which  refers  to  the  assassination  of  President  Lin- 
coln : — 

“ It  justly  fastened  itself  upon  the  rebellion,  and  demanded 
new  and  severer  punishment  of  the  rebels,  instead  of  the  mag- 
nanimous reconciliation  which  the  beloved  president,  of  whom 
it  had  been  bereaved,  had  recommended.  Who  will  say  that  this 
sentiment  was  unnatural.?  Who  shall  say  that  it  is  even  unjust.?’’ 

Here,  again,  will  and  shall  are  used  to  express  the 
same  time  in  regard  to  like  actions  of  the  same  per- 
son. Will  might  have  been  used  correctly  in  the  lat- 
ter question  as  it  was  in  the  former ; but  some  force 
would  thereby  have  been  lost.  Shall  could  not 
have  been  used  with  the  same  fine  effect  in  both 
questions.  Will  having  been  used,  shall  intensifies 
the  query.  It  is  as  if  the  questions  were.  Who  can 
say  that  this  sentiment  was  unnatural?  Who  could 
venture  to  say  that  it  is  even  unjust?  But  we  may 
be  sure  that  no  conscious,  careful  selection  of  these 
words  was  made  in  this  case.  And  we  may  be 
even  surer  of  the  unconsciousness  with  which  the 
following  passage  was  written,  in  a letter  from  a 
lady  to  a friend  from  whom  she  had  been  alienated, 
and  who  sent  her  a present  which  she  felt  deli- 
cate about  accepting.  The  subject  is  common- 
place, and  the  writer  expresses  in  the  simplest  lan- 
guage a feeling  natural,  yet  not  too  common.  But 
the  passage  is  so  remarkable  for  its  free  yet  nicely 
correct  use  of  idiom,  that  I am  sure  the  writer,  as 
well  as  the  friend  to  whom  I am  indebted  for  a sight 
of  it,  will  pardon  its  appearance  here.  In  the  last 
sentence,  the  use  of  may^  instead  of  will^  which 
would  have  been  quite  proper,  shows  a delicate  in- 
stinct in  the  use  of  language,  which,  as  I have  said 


SHALL  AND  WILL. 


273 


before,  is  characteristic  of  the  epistolary  style  of 
intelligent  and  cultivated  women. 

“I  thank  you  sincerely  for  still  thinking  of  me,  and  I will 
keep  it  just  as  it  is  until  I hear  from  you  again.  If  you  are 
willing  to  become  friends  with  me  once  more,  I shall  only  be 
too  happy.  I will  accept  it  as  a- seal  on  the  renewal  of  our 
friendship.  If  not,  then  I will  return  it  and  what  you  gave  me 
before  we  parted.  Perhaps,  after  you  have  read  this  letter  to 
the  end,  you  may  not  wish  to  continue  our  acquaintance;  if 

not,  I shall  come  back  to , and  will  keep  my  engagements 

there,  and  then  go  home.” 

Such  a mastery  of  idiom  belongs  only  to  persons 
who,  having  grown  up  among  those  who  use  lan- 
guage correctly,  have  themselves  a delicate  and  sure 
sense  of  the  various  significance  of  words.  It  is  not 
so  common  even  among  the  educated  as  to  be  taken 
as  a matter  of  course  : for  instance,  see  the  following 
note,  printed  from  the  original,  which  was  written 
by  a distinguished  member  of  one  of  the  learned 
professions  in  New  York  : — 

“ I enclose  to  you  a document  which  your  interest  in  Sanitary 
matters  will  doubtless  induce  an  appreciation  of  the  views  there- 
in expressed.” 

“I  should  feel  very  obligatory  to  you  if  you  could  find  a good 

appointment  for  my  son , to  enable  him  to  procure  a free 

living  for  himself  and  his  family,  having  a wife  and  2 children. 
He  is  intelligent,  industrious,  and  perfectly  reliable,  and  would 
devote  all  the  time  required  for  the  necessary  duty.” 

Of  the  authors  of  these  two  specimens  of  letter 
writing,  the  lady  is  not,  I believe,  highly  educated, 
and  her  intellectual  pretensions,  should  she  make 
any,  would  be  scouted  by  the  gentleman ; but  she 
could  no  more  fall  into  his  blundering  style  and  in- 
correct use  of  words  than  he  could  write  or  speak 
with  her  simple  clearness  and  unaffected  grace. 

18 


274 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES, 


CHAPTER  IX, 


GRAMMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN. 


HE  first  punishment  I remember  having  re- 


i ceived  was  for  a failure  to  get  a lesson  in 
English  grammar.  I recollect,  with  a half  painful, 
half  amusing  distinctness,  all  the  little  incidents  of 
the  dreadful  scene ; how  I found  myself  standing  in 
an  upper  chamber  of  a gloomy  brick  house,  book  rrr* 
hand,  — it  was  a thin  volume,  with  a tea-green  pa- 
per cover  and  a red  roan  back,  — before  an  awful 
being,  who  put  questions  to  me,  which,  for  all  that  I 
could  understand  of  them,  might  as  well  have  been 
couched  in  Coptic  or  in  Sanskrit ; how,  when 
asked  about  governing,  I answered,  I don’t  know,”’ 
and  when  about  agreeing,  ”I  can’t  tell,”  until  at 
last,  in  despair,  I said  nothing,  and  choked  down 
my  tears,  wondering,  in  a dazed,  dumb  fashion, 
whether  all  this  was  part  and  parcel  of  that  total 
depravity  of  the  human  heart  of  which  I heard 
so  much ; how  then  the  being  — to  whom  I apply 
no  harsh  epithet,  for,  poor  man,  he  thought  he  was 
doing  God  service — said  to  me,  in  a terrible  voice, 

“ You  are  a stupid,  idle  boy,  sir,  and  have  neglected 
your  task.  I shall  punish  you.  Hold  out  youi 
hand.”  I put  it  out  half  way,  like  a machine  with 


GRAMMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN.  275 

a hitch  in  its  gearing.  ” Farther,  sir.”  I advanced 
it  an  inch  or  two,  when  he  seized  the  tips  of  my 
fingers,  bent  them  back  so  as  to  throw  the  palrp 
well  up,  and  then,  with  a mahogany  rule,  much 
bevelled  on  one  side,  and  having  a large,  malig- 
nant ink-spot  near  the  end,  — an  instrument  which 
seemed  to  me  to  weigh  about  forty  pounds,  and  to 
be  a fit  implement  for  a part  of  that  eternal  torture 
to  which  I had  been  led  to  believe  that  I,  for  my 
inborn  depravity,  was  doomed,  — he  proceeded  to 
reduce  my  little  hand,  only  just  well  in  gristle,  as 
nearly  to  a jelly  as  was  thought,  on  the  whole,  to 
be  beneficial  to  a small  boy  at  that  stage  of  the 
world’s  progress. 

The  carefully-filed  and  still  preserved  receipts  of 
a methodically  managed  household  enable  me  to 
tell  the  age  at  which  I was  thus  awakened  to  the 
sweet  and  alluring  beauties  of  English  grammar. 
I was  just  five  and  a half  years  old  when  one  Al- 
fred Ely  — may  his  soul  rest  in  peace  ! — thus  gently 
guided  my  uncertain  and  reluctant  steps  into  the 
paths  of  humane  learning.  Fortunately,  m}^  father, 
when  outside  the  pale  of  religious  dogma,  was  a 
man  of  sound  sense  and  a tender  heart ; and  as 
there  was  nothing  about  English  accidence  either 
in  the  Decalogue  or  the  Common  Pra3^er-Book,  he 
sent  a message  to  the  schoolmaster,  which  caused 
that  to  be  my  last  lesson  in  what  is  called  the  gram- 
mar of  my  mother  tongue.  I was  soon  after  re- 
moved to  a school  the  excellence  of  which  I have 
only  within  a few  years  fully  appreciated,  although, 
as  a boy,  I knew  that  there  I was  happy,  and  fell 


276 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


as  if  I were  not  quite  stupid,  idle,  and  depraved.* 
Thereafter  I studied  English,  indeed,  but  only  in 
the  works  of  its  great  masters,  and  unconsciously 
in  the  speech  of  daily  companions,  who  spoke  it 
with  remarkable  but  spontaneous  excellence. 

My  kind  and  courteous  readers  will  pardon,  I 
hope,  this  reminiscence,  in  which  I have  indulged 
m3'Self  only  because  in  some  of  the  comments,  pri- 
vate as  well  as  public,  which  have  been  made  upon 
these  chapters  in  their  original  form,  I have  seen 
myself  called  a grammarian.  God  forbid  that  1 
should  be  anything  of  the  sort ! That  I am  un- 
versed in  the  rules  of  English  grammar  (so  called), 
I am  not  ashamed  to  confess  ; for  special  ignorance 
is  no  reproach  when  unaccompanied  with  presump- 
tion. And  that  in  which  I confess  that  I have  no 
skill,  I have  not  undertaken  to  teach.  That  task  I 
leave  to  those  who  are  capable  of  the  subject,  and 
who  feel  its  necessity. 

If  grammar  is  what  it  has  been  defined  as  being, 
the  science  which  has  for  its  object  the  law's  wdiich 
regulate  language,  the  remarks  just  made  cannot 
be  justified ; for,  in  that  sense,  grammar  is  as  much 
concerned  wfith  words  by  themselves,'  with  their 
signification  and  their  origin,  and  with  their  right- 
ful use  in  those  regards,  as  with  their  relations  to 
each  other  in  the  sentence ; and  it  is  in  that  sense 
but  another  name  for  the  science  of  language  — phi- 


* Let  me  mention  with  respect  and  love,  which  have  grown  witli  my  years,  the 
names  of  my  two  teachers,  Theodore  Karnes  and  Samuel  Putnam,  to  whom  I owe  all 
that  I could  be  taught  at  school  before  1 left  them  for  college.  I know  that  should 
any  one  of  my  fellow-pupils  chance  to  see  these  lines,  he  will  declare  with  me  that  tho 
boy  who  could  remain  even  a year  under  their  hands  without  profit  in  mind,  moralst 
and  manners,  must  indeed  have  given  himself  up  to  original  sin. 


GRAMMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN.  277 

lology.  But,  notwithstanding  that  definition,  and 
its  acceptance  some  grammarians  and  some  com- 
pilers of  dictionaries,  such  is  not  the  sense  in  which 
the  word  grammar  is  generally  used.  Nor  can  the 
position  which  I have  taken  be  maintained,  if  gram- 
mar is  regarded  as  the  science  of  the  rightful  or 
reasonable  expression  of  thought  by  language ; for 
grammar  extended  to  these  wide  limits  would  in- 
clude logic-  and  rhetoric.  But  grammar,  in  its 
usual  sense,  is  the  art  of  speaking  and  writing  a 
language  correctly;  in  which  definition,  the  word 
correctly  means,  in  accordance  with  laws  founded 
upon  the  relations,  not  of  thoughts,  but  of  words, 
and  determined  by  verbal  forms.  It  is  this  formal, 
constructive  grammar  which  seems  to  me  almost 
if  not  entirel};^  superfluous  in  regard  to  the  English 
language.  Long  ago,  before  any  attempt  had 
been  made  to  write  its  grammar,  that  language  had 
worked  itself  nearly  free  from  those  verbal  forms 
which  control  the  construction  of  the  sentence,  and 
therefore  free  in  the  same  degree  from  the  needs 
and  the  control  of  formal,  constructive  grammar. 
And,  notably,  it  was  not  until  English  had  cast 
itself  firmly  and  sharply  into  its  present  simple 
mould  that  scholars  undertook  to  furnish  it  with  a 
grammar,  the  nomenclature  and  the  rules  of  which 
they  took  from  a language  — the  Latin  — with 
which  it  had  no  formal  affinity,  to  which  it  had  no 
formal  likeness,  and  by  the  laws  of  which  it  could 
not  be  bound,  except  so  far  as  they  were  the  uni- 
versal laws  of  human  thought.  Allusions  to  gram- 
mar and  to  its  importance  as  a part  of  education 
abound  in  our  early  literature.  In  a rhyming  ex- 


278 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


hortation  to  a child,  written  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
these  lines  occur  : — 

“My  lefe  chylcl  I kownsel  ye 
To  furme  thi  vj  tens,  thou  awyse  ye; 

And  have  mind  of  thy  clensoune 
Both  of  nowne  and  of  pronowne, 

And  ilk  case  in  plurele 

How  thai  sal  end,  awyse  the  wele; 

And  thi  participyls  forgete  thou  nowth, 

And  thi  comparisons  be  yn  thi  thowth ; 

Thynk  of  the  revele  of  the  relatyfe ; 

And  then  schalle  thou  the  better  thryfe; 

And  how  a verbe  schalle  be  furmede. 

Take  gode  hede  that  thou  be  not  stunnede; 

The  ablatyfe  case  thou  hafe  in  mynd, 

That  he  be  saved  in  hys  kynd ; 

Take  gode  hede  qwat  he  wylle  do. 

And  how  a nowne  substantyfe 
Wylie  corde  with  a verbe  and  a relatyfe, 

Posculo,  posco,  peto. 

Reliquice  Antiques^  II.  14. 

But,  as  appears  on  its  face,  this  exhortation  refers 
not  to  English,  but  to  Latin  grammar,  which  was  the 
only  grammar  taught  or  thought  of  at  the  time  when 
it  was  written.  That  was  the  day  of  the  establish- 
ing and  endowing  of  grammar  schools  in  Eng- 
land ; but  the  grammar  taught  in  them  was  the 
Latin,  and  afterward  a little  of  the  Greek.  Chau- 
cer and  Wycliffe  had  written,  but  in  English  gram- 
mar schools  no  man  thought  of  teaching  English. 
When,  at  last,  it  dawned  upon  the  pedagogues  that 
English  was  a language,  or  rather,  in  their  signifi- 
cant phrase,  a vulgar  tongue,  and  they  set  themselves 
to  giving  rules  for  the  art  of  writing  and  speaking 
It  correctly,  they  attempted  to  form  these  rules  upon 
the  models  furnished  by  the  Latin  language.  And 
what  wonder?  for  those  were  the  only  rules  they 


GRAMMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN.  279 

knew.  But  the  construction  of  the  English  lan- 
guage was  even  less  like  that  of  the  Latin  than 
Eno-lish  words  were  like  Latin  words.  From  this 
heterogeneous  union  sprang  that  hybrid  monster 
known  as  English  grammar,  before  whose  fruitless 
loins  we  hawe  sacrificed,  for  nearly  three  hundred 
years,  our  children  and  the  strangers  within  our 
gates. 

Of  grammar,  the  essential  parts,  if  not  the  whole, 
are  etymology  and  syntax.  For  orthography  re- 
lates to  the  mere  arrangement  of  letters  for  the 
arbitrary  representation  of  certain  sounds,  and  pros- 
ody to  the  aesthetic  use  of  language.  And,  if 
prosody  is  a part  of  grammar,  why  should  the  latter 
not  include  rhetoric,  and  even  elocution?  In  fact, 
grammar  was  long  regarded  as  including  all  that 
concerns  the  structure  and  the  relations  of  language  ; 
and  a grammarian  among  the  ancients  was  one  who 
was  versed,  not  only  in  language,  but  in  poetry, 
history,  and  rhetoric,  and  who,  generally,  lectured 
or  wrote  upon  all  those  branches  of  literature.  But 
it  seems  to  me  that  in  the  usage  of  intelligent  peo- 
ple the  English  word  graynmar  relates  only  to  the 
laws  which  govern  the  significant  forms  of  words, 
and  the  construction  of  the  sentence.  Thus,  if  we 
find  extraordinary  spelled  igstrawnery , or  hear 
sngo'est  pronounced  sujjest^  we  do  not  call  these 
lapses  false  grammar ; but  if  we  hear,  " She  was 
hisn,  but  he  wasn’t  herni^  which  violates  true  ety- 
mology, or,  " He  do7ie  it  good”  which  is  incorrect 
S3^ntax,  these  we  do  call  false  grammar. 

Etymology,  which  relates  to  the  significant  forms 
of  words,  and  syntax,  the  rules  of  which  govern 


28o 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES.  . 


their  arrangement,  are,  then,  from  our  point  of  view, 
the  great  essentials,  if  not  the  whole,  of  grammar. 
Now,  the  principal  Latin  words,  the  noim,  the  ad- 
jective, the  verb,  the  participle,  and  the  adverb,  vary 
their  forms  by  a process  called  inflection,  and  the 
Latin  sentence  is  constructed  upon  the  basis  of  those 
significant  verbal  forms.  English  words  do  not 
vary  their  forms  by  inflection,  and  the  English  sen- 
tence is  constructed  without  any  dependence  upon 
verbal  forms.  To  this  remark  there  are  exceptions  ; 
but  they  are  so  few,  and  of  such  small  importance, 
that  they  cannot  be  regarded  as  affecting  its  general 
truth.  The  structure  of  the  Latin  sentence  depends 
upon  the  relation  of  the  words  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed ; that  of  the  English  sentence,  upon  the  rela- 
tion of  the  thoughts  it  expresses.  In  other  words, 
the  construction  of  the  Latin  sentence  is  grammati- 
cal, that  of  the  English  sentence,  logical.  At  the 
first  offshooting  of  the  English  language  from  its 
parent  stem,  its  growth  and  development  began  at 
once  to  tend  toward  logical  simplicity  — in  fact,  that 
tendency  was  its  oflshooting ; and  since  then  it  has 
gradually,  but  surely  and  steadily,  cast  off  inflec- 
tional forms,  and  freed  itself  from  the  trammels  of 
a construction  dependent  upon  them.  This  being 
true,  how  preposterous,  how  impossible,  for  us  to 
measure  our  English  corn  in  Latin  bushels!  Yet 
that  is  what  we  have  so  long  been  tiying  to  do  with 
our  English  grammar. 

In  illustration  of  the  foregoing  remarks,  I will 
present  and  compare  some  examples  of  Latin  and 
English  words  and  sentences,  the  former  of  which 
shall  be  so  simple  that  they  can  hardly  escape  the 


GRAMMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN. 


281 


apprehension  even  of  those  who  have  not  received 
the  training  of  a grammar  school. 

The  Latin  for  boy  is  -pucr.  But  -puer  stands  for 
hoy  only  as  the  subject  of  a sentence.  When  the 
boy  spoken  of  is  the  object  of  an  action,  he  is  repre- 
sented b}^  an  inflection  oi piicr  — the  word  puertim* 
Boys  as  the  subjects  of  an  action  are  called  pu^ 
erh  but  as  the  objects,  puer  os. 

The  Latin  for  girl  is  puella.,  as  the  subject  of  a 
verb,  but  when  the  girl  is  the  object  of  the  action,  she 
is  not  represented  in  that  relation  by  changing 
into  puelluni^  as  puer  was  made  puerum^  but  the 
Yjovd  puella,  being  feminine,  h^comQs  puellanz.  In 
the  plural  it  becomes,  not  puelli  as  the  subject,  and 
puellos  as  the  object,  of  an  action,  but  puellce  and 
puellas.^  those  being  feminine  inflections. 

Loved  is  arnahazn.,  if  you  wish  to  say,  I loved; 
but  if  he  or  she  loved,  amah  at ; if  they  loved,  ama^ 
bant.  Any  of  my  readers  will  now  be  able  to  trans- 
late this  little  sentence  : — 

Pueri  amabant  puellam. 

There  being  no  article  in  the  Latin,  it  of  course 
must  be  supplied,  and  we  therefore  have,  — 

The  boys  loved  the  girl. 

In  this  Latin  sentence,  and  in  its  English  equiva- 
lent, the  words  not  only  represent  each  other  per- 
fectly in  sense,  but  correspond  exactly  in  place.  If, 
however,  we  change  the  relative  positions  of  the 
English  nouns,  without  modifying  them  in  the  least, 
we  not  only  change,  but  entirely  reverse  the  mean- 
ing of  the  sentence. 

The  girl  loved  the  boys 

But  in  the  Latin  sentence  we  ma}^  make  what 


282 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


changes  of  position  we  please,  and  we  shall  not 
make  a shade  of  difference  in  its  meaning. 

Puellam  amabant  pueri, 

Puellam  pueri  amabant, 

Pueri  amabant  puellam, 

Pueri  puellam  amabant, 

all  have  the  same  meaning  — the  boys  loved  the  girl. 
For  -ptiellani  shows  by  its  form  that  it  must  be  the 
object  of  the  action ; amabant  must  have  for  its 
subject  a plural  substantive,  and  which  must  there- 
fore be,  not  'puellam^  but  pueri.  The  connections 
of  the  words  being  therefore  absolutely  determined 
by  their  forms,  their  position  in  the  sentence  is  a 
matter  at  least  of  minor  importance.  The  reader 
who  has  not  learned  Latin  will  yet,  by  referring  to 
a preceding  paragraph,  have  little  difhculty  in  con- 
structing a Latin  sentence,  which  represents  the 
reverse  of  our  first  example  ; i.  e.,  the  girl  loyed  the 
boys.  For  in  that  the  girl  is  the  subject,  and  the 
boys  are  the  objects  of  the  action,  and  the  verb 
must  have  its  singular  form,  which  gives  us 

Puella  amabat  pueros. 

In  the  corresponding  English  sentence,  the  words 
are  exactly  the  same  as  those  in  the  sentence  of 
exactly  opposite  meaning ; in  the  Latin  they  are 
all  different.  And  again,  their  position  has  no 
effect  on  the  meaning  of  the  sentence ; for  these 
words,  whether  given  as  above  in  the  order,  the 
girl  loved  the  boys,  or  in  the  more  elegant  order, 

Puella  pueros  amabat 
[The  girl  the  bojs  loved], 

or, 

Pueros  amabat  puella 
[Tlie  bojs  loved  the  girl], 


GRAMMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN.  283 

can  have  but  one  construction,  and  therefore  but 
one  meaning;  i.  e.,  the  girl  loved  the  boys. 

If  we  extend  the  sentence  by  qualifying  either 
the  subject  or  the  object,  or  both,  the  operation  of 
this  rule  of  construction  will  be  more  striking. 
Let  the  qualification  be  goodness.  The  Latin  for 
good  is  hontis;  but  in  this  form  the  word  qualifies 
only  a subject  of  the  singular  number  and  mascu- 
line gender  ; singular  feminine  and  neuter  subjects 
are  qualified  as  good  by  the  forms  bona  and  bonimi. 
A singular  feminine  object  is  qualified  as  good  by 
bonajn ; a plural  masculine  subject  by  boni^  a 
plural  masculine  object  b}^  bonos.  If,  therefore,  we 
wish  to  say  that  the  boys  were  good,  the  sentence 
becomes 

Boni  pueri  amabant  puellam, 

The  good  boys  loved  the  girl. 

By  merely  changing  the  position  of  the  adjective 
in  the  English  sentence,  we  say,  not  that  the  boys 
were  good,  but  the  girl : 

The  boys  loved  the  good  girl. 

But  a corresponding  arrangement  of  the  Latin 
words 

Pueri  amabant  boni  puellam, 

means  still  that  the  boys  were  good,  and  the  girl 
was  loved  ; because  bom,  from  its  form,  can  qualify 
^nly  a plural  masculine  subject  — here  -pueri.  If 
we  wish  to  say  that  the  girl  was  good,  we  must  use 
the  form  of  bonus  which  belongs  to  a singular 
feminine  object,  and  write  bo7iani  puellam.  Then, 
wherever  we  put  bona^n,  it  will  qualify  ov\y puellam* 
Thus,  in  the  sentence, 

Bonam  puellam  amabant  pueri, 


284  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

the  order  of  the  words,  represented  in  English,  is 

The  good  girl  loved  the  boys ; 

but  the  meaning  is,  the  bo3^s  loved  the  good  girl. 
It  is  not  even  necessaiy,  in  Latin,  that  the  adjective 
and  the  noun  which  it  qualifies  should  be  kept 
together.  Thus,  in  the  sentence, 

Puella  bonos  amabat  pueros, 

the  order  of  the  words,  represented  in  English,  is 

The  girl  good  loved  the  boys ; 

and  in  this  arrangement, 

Pueros  amabat  bonos  puella, 

the  order  is. 

The  boys  loved  the  good  girl; 

but- the  meaning  in  both  is  the  same,  and  is  quite 
unlike  that  conveyed  by  the  English  arrange- 
ment— The  girl  loved  the  good  boys. 

The  reason  of  this  fixed  relation  is  simply  that 
6onos,  whatever  its  place  in  this  sentence,  qualifies 
fueros  only,  as  appears  by  the  number,  gender, 
and  case  of  each,  which  are  shown  by  their  respec- 
tive and  agreeing  forms  ; that  -pueros  must  be  an 
object  of  action,  which  is  shown  by  its  form  ; and 
puella  and  amabat  are  subject  and  predicate, 
pertaining  to  each  other,  which  is  also  shown 
by  their  forms.  J3onos  cannot  belong  to  puella^ 
because  the  former  is  masculine  plural,  and  belongs 
to  an  object ; and  puella  is  feminine  singular,  and  a 
subject ; pueros  cannot  be  the  subject  of  amabat^ 
because  the  former  is  plural  in  its  inflection,  and  the 
latter  singular.  In  Juvenal’s  noble  sa^ung.  Maxima 
debetur  puero  revereniia^  The  greatest  reverence 
is  due  to  a boy,  the  order  of  the  words  is  this ; 


GRAJVIxMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN.  2S5 

greatest  is  owed  to  a boy  reverence ; and  there 
is  nothing  in  this  order  to  preclude  the  application 
of  the  word  meaning  greatest  to  the  word  meaning 
boy,  which  would  give  us,  Reverence  is  due  to  the 
biggest  boy.  But  in  Juvenal’s  sentence,  the  Latin 
word  for  boy  has  the  dative  inflection,  which  shows 
that  the  boy  is  the  recipient  of  something,  and 
is  the  object  of  the  verb  dehetur ; it  is  also  mascu- 
line ; and  as  maxima  agrees  in  case  and  in  gender 
with  reverentia^  the  feminine  subject  of  the  verb,  it 
must  qualify  that  word. 

If  we  should  find  the  following  collocation  of 
words,  “ For  thy  now  sake  of  my  of  mistress  with 
weeping  swollen  redden  pretty  eyes,”  we  should 
pronounce  it  nonsense.  It  is  not  even  a sentence. 
And  yet  it  is  a translation  of  the  beautiful  lines,  in 
the  order  of  their  words,  with  which  Catullus  closes 
his  charming  ode,  “ Funus  Passeris.” 

“ Tua  nunc  opera  mese  pullae 
Flendo  turgiduli  rubent  ocelli.” 

And  the  words,  reduced  to  their  logical  or  English 
order,  are.  For  thy  sake  the  pretty  swollen  eyes 
of  my  mistress  now  redden  with  weeping.  The 
Latin  arrangement  is  as  if  we  were  presented  with 
the  figures  172569384,  and  were  expected  to  read 
them,  not  one  hundred  and  seventy-two  million  five 
hundred  and  sixty-nine  thousand  three  hundred 
and  eighty-four,  but  one  hundred  twenty-three 
million  four  hundred  fifty-six  thousand  seven  hun- 
dred and  eighty-nine;  the  order  123456789  being 
mdicated  by  some  peculiar  and  correspondent  form 
of  the  characters  known  only  to  the  initiated. 


286 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Enough  has  been  said  in  illustration  of  the  differ- 
ence between  the  construction  of  the  Latin  and  that 
of  the  English  sentence.  The  former  depends 
upon  the  inflectional  forms  of  the  words ; and  its 
sense  is  not  affected,  or  is  affected  only  in  a secon- 
dary degree,  by  their  relative  positions.  In  the 
latter,  the  meaning  of  the  sentence  is  determined 
by  the  relative  positions  of  the  words,  their  order 
being  determined  by  the  connection  and  inter- 
dependence of  the  thoughts  of  which  they  are  the 
signs.  Syntax,  guided  by  etymology,  controls  the 
Latin  ; reason,  the  English.  In  brief,  the  former  is 
grammatical ; the  latter,  logical.  English  admits 
very  rarely,  and  only  in  a very  slight  degree, 
that  severance  of  words  representing  connected 
thoughts  which  is  not  only  admissible,  but  which  is 
generally  found  in  the  Latin  sentence ; of  which 
structural  form  the  foregoing  examples  are  of  the 
simplest  sort,  and  are  the  most  easily  resolvable  into 
logical  order. 

Milton  is  justly  regarded  as  the  English  poet 
whose  style  is  most  affected  by  Latin  models  ; and 
the  opening  passage  of  his  great  poem  is  often  cited 
as  a strongly-marked  example  of  involved  construc- 
tion. But  let  us  examine  it  briefly. 

“ Of  man’s  first  disobedience  [and  the  fruit 
Of  that  forbidden  tree  whose  mortal  taste 
Brought  death  into  the  world,  and  ah  our  woe, 

With  loss  of  Eden,  till  one  greater  Man 
Restore  us,  and  regain  the  blissful  seat], 

Sing,  heavenly  muse  [that  on  the  secret  top 
Of  Oreb,  or  of  Sinai,  didst  inspire 
That  shepherd  who  first  taught  the  chosen  seed 
In  the  beginning  how  the  heavens  and  earth 
Rose  out  of  chaos].” 


GRAMMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN.  287 

This,  certainly,  is  not  the  colloquial  style,  or  even 
the  high  dramatic.  How  many  young  people, 
when  called  upon  to  ” parse  ” it,  have  sat  before  it 
in  dumb  bewilderment ! And  yet  its  apparent 
intricacy  is  but  the  result  of  a single,  and  not 
violent,  inversion.  In  all  other  respects  the  words 
succeed  each  other  merely  as  the  thoughts  which 
they  represent  arise.  The  natural  order  of  the 
passage  is,  Sing,  heavenly  muse,  of  man’s  first 
disobedience ; and  that  simple  invocation  is  the 
essential  part  of  the  sentence.  What  follows  muse^ 
between  brackets,  is  a mere  description,  modifica- 
tion, or  limitation  of  7nuse ; what  follows  disobe- 
dicnce  is  a description  of  the  disobedience,  which 
is  the  object  of  sing — that  is,  the  subject  of  the 
poem.  The  words  between  brackets  are  only  a 
sort  of  prolonged  parenthetical  adjectives,  qualifying 
7nuse  and  disobedience.  If  any  intelligent  person, 
bearing  this  in  mind,  will  read  the  passage,  begin- 
ning at  sing,  and  turning  from  chaos  back  to  the 
first  line,  all  the  seeming  involution  will  disappear ; 
and  in  the  after  reading  of  it  in  its  written  order,  he 
will  be  impressed  only  by  the  grandeur  and  the 
mighty  sweep  and  sustained  power  of  the  invoca- 
tion, The  two  qualifying  or  adjectival  passages, 
although  composed  of  several  elements,  each  of 
which  is  evolved  from  its  predecessor,  which  it 
qualifies,  being  itself  a sort  of  adjective,  are  written 
in  a style  so  plain  and  so  direct  that  no  reader 
of  ordinary  intelligence  can  fail  to  comprehend 
them  as  fully  and  as  easily  as  he  can  comprehend 
any  passage  in  a novel  or  newspaper  of  the  day. 
Would,  indeed,  that  novels  and  newspapers  were 


288 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


written  with  any  approach  to  such  simplicity  and 
such  directness  ! I do  not  say  such  meaning. 

Milton’s  invocation  is  not  the  only  example  of 
its  kind  in  the  opening  of  a great  English  poem. 
Chaucer,  writing  nearly  three  hundred  years  be- 
fore the  blind  Puritan,  and  in  an  entirely  different 
spirit,  thus  introduces  his"Troilus  and  Creseide,” 
a poem  as  full  of  imagination  and  of  a knowledge 
of  man’s  inmost  heart  as  any  one,  not  dramatic 
in  form,  that  has  since  been  bestowed  upon  the 
world  : — 

“The  double  sorrow  of  Troilus  to  tellen, 

That  was  Kinge  Priamus  sonne  of  Troy, 

In  loving,  how  his  aventures  fellen 
From  woe  to  wele,  and  after  out  of  joy, 

My  purpose  is,  er  that  I part  froy : 

Thou,  Tesiphone,  thou  helpe  me  for  t’indite 
These  wofull  verses,  that  wepen  as  I write.” 

That  is  clear  enough  to  any  intelligent  and  edu- 
cated reader  who  is  not  troubled  by  the  fact  that 
Chaucer  ” didn’t  know  how  to  spell ; ” but  it  is  real- 
ly more  involved  in  structure,  more  like  a passage 
from  a Latin  poet,  than  the  opening  of  " Paradise 
Lost.”  The  sentence,  according  to  the  natural 
order  of  thought,  begins  with  the  fifth  line,  ” My 
purpose  is,”  etc.,  and  then  turns  back  to  the  first 
line,  which  itself  contains  an  inversion  — ” The 
sorrow  to  tellen  ” for  To  tellen  the  sorrow.”  But 
the  whole  of  the  second  line  is  really  an  adjective 
qualifying  Troilus ^ and  this  is  thrown  in  between 
the  verb  " to  tellen  ” and  the  phrase  " in  loving,”  the 
latter  of  which  is  really  an  adjective  qualifying  the 
object  of  the  action  "sorrow.”  So  that  the  logical 
order  of  the  sentence  is  this : " My  purpose  is  to 


GRAMMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN.  289 

tell  the  double  sorrow  in  loving  of  Troilus,  that  was 
King  Priam’s  son  of  Troy,  how  his  adventures  fell 
from  woe  to  weal,  and  after  out  of  joy.”  The  con- 
struction of  the  passage,  however,  as  Chaucer  wrote 
it,  is  not  English ; and  although  in  a formal  open- 
ing of  a long  poem,  it  is  not  only  admissible,  but 
impressive,  it  would,  if  continued,  become  intoler 
able.  Inversion  has  been  used  with  fine  effect  in  a 
single  clause  by  Parsons,  in  his  noble  lines  upon  a 
bust  of  Dante,  — 

“ How  stern  of  lineament,  how  grim, 

The  father  was  of  Tuscan  song!  ” 

Here  the  limiting  adjectival  phrase,  " of  Tuscan 
song,”  is  separated  by  the  verb  from  the  noun  which 
it  qualifies,  and  the  result  is  (we  can  hardly  tell  why) 
a deep  and  strong  impression  upon  the  reader’s  mind. 
Such  effects,  however,  are  not  in  harmony  with  the 
genius  of  the  English  language,  and  are  admissible 
and  attainable  only  at  the  hands  of  those  who  wield 
language  with  a singular  felicity. 

The  reason  why  inversions  of  the  logical  order 
of  thought  are  perilous,  and  rarely  admissible  in 
English,  has  a direct  relation  to  the  subject  under 
discussion.  For  example,  in  neither  of  these  pas- 
sages from  Chaucer  and  from  Parsons  is  the  con- 
struction safely  keyed  together  by  etymological 
forms,  as  would  have  been  the  case  if  they  had 
been  written  by  a Greek  or  a Latin  poet.  We  have 
to  divine  the  connection  of  the  words  and  clauses  — 
to  guess  at  it,  from  our  general  knowledge  of  the 
poet’s  meaning  — from  the  drift  of  his  sentence; 
and  thus,  instead  of  being  placed  at  once  in  com- 
munication with  him,  and  receiving  his  thought  di 

19 


290  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

rectly  and  without  a doubt,  and  being  fiee  to  assent 
or  dissent,  to  like  or  to  dislike,  we  must  give  our- 
selves, for  a longer  or  a shorter  time,  — in  some 
cases  blit  an  inappreciable  moment,  — to  unravel- 
ling his  construction  ; doing,  in  a measure,  what 
we  are  obliged  to  do  in  reading  a Greek  or  a Latin 
author.  In  the  example  quoted  from  Parsons,  the 
inversion,  although  violent,  disturbs  so  little  of  the 
sentence,  and  produces  so  pleasant  a surprise,  and 
one  which  is  renewed  at  each  re-reading,  that  we 
not  only  pardon,  but  admire.  Success  is  here,  as 
ever,  full  justification.  But  Chaucer  loses  more  in 
clearness  and  ease  than  he  gains  in  impressiveness 
and  dignity ; and  Milton’s  exhibition  of  power  to 
mount  and  soar  at  the  first  essay  does  not  quite 
recompense  all  of  us  for  the  sudden  strain  he  gives 
our  eyes  in  following  him.  But  the  completest 
victory  over  the  difficulty  of  inversion  in  the  con- 
struction of  the  English  se,ntence  will  not  make  it 
endurable,  except  as  a curious  exhibition  of  our 
mother  tongue,  disguised  in  foreign  garb,  and  aping 
foreign  manners.  A single  stanza,  composed  of 
lines  like  that  of  Parsons,  on  Dante’s  bust,  would 
weary  and  offend  even  the  most  cultivated  English 
reader.  Those  who  are  untrained  in  intellectual 
gymnastics  would  abandon  it,  upon  the  first  at- 
tempt, as  beyond  their  powers. 

The  most  striking  example  of  the  destruction  of 
meaning  by  the  inverted  arrangement  of  thouglit  that 
I have  met  with  in  the  writings  of  autliors  of  re- 
pute is  the  following  line,  which  closes  the  beauti- 
ful sonnet  in  Sidney’s  ” Astrophel  and  Stella,” 
beginning,  "With  how  sad  steps,  O Moon,  thou 
climbst  the  night  I ” 


GRAMMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN.  29! 

“ Do  they  call  virtue  there  forgetfulness?” 

The  meaning  of  this  seems  clear ; and  it  is  so, 
according  to  the  order  of  the  words,  which  askvif, 
in  a certain  place,  virtue  is  called  forgetfulness.  But 
this  is  exactly  the  reverse  of  Sidne3^’s  meaning,  as 
will  be  seen  by  the  context : — 

“ Is  constant  love  deemed  there  but  want  of  wit? 

Are  beauties  there  as  proud  as  here  they  be  ? 

Do  they  above  love  to  be  loved,  and  yet 
Those  lovers  scorn  whom  that  love  doth  possess? 

Do  they  call  virtue  there  forgetfulness?” 

That  is,  we  at  last  discover.  Do  they  call  forgetfuh 
ness  virtue?  But  reason  ourselves  into  this  appre- 
hension of  the  sentence  as  absolutely  as  we  can, 
familiarize  ourselves  with  it  as  much  as  we  may,  it 
will,  at  every  new  reading,  strike  us,  as  it  did  at 
first,  that  the  poet’s  question  is  asked  about  virtue. 
So  absolute,  in  English,  is  the  law  of  logical  order. 

The  following  passages,  which  I have  recently 
seen  given  as  examples  of  confusion  resulting  from 
a lack  of  proper  punctuation,  illustrate  the  present 
subject : — 

“ I continued  on  using  it,  and  by  the  time  I had  taken  five 
bottles  I found  myself  completely  cured,  after  having  been 
brought  so  near  to  the  gates  of  death  by  your  infallible  med- 
icine ” ! 

“The  extensive  view  presented  from  the  fourth  story  of  the 
Hudson  River  ” ! 

“ His  remains  were  committed  to  that  bourn  whence  no  trav- 
eller returns  attended  by  his  friends  ” ! 

The  fault  here  is  not  in  the  punctuation,  but  in 
the  order  of  the  words,  which,  however,  although 
nonsensical  in  English,  might  make  very  good  sense 
in  Greek  or  Latin.  The  sentences  are  all  examples 
of  the  hopeless  confusion  which  may  be  produced 


292 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


by  an  inversion  which  violates  logical  order ; and 
if  they  were  peppered  with  points,  the  fault  would 
not  thus  be  remedied.  I shall  leave  it  to  my  read- 
ers to  put  the  words  into  their  proper  order,  merely 
remarking  upon  the  last  example,  that  the  form  of 
the  sentence  is  quite  worthy  of  a man  who  could 
speak  of  committing  a body  to  a bourn ^ and  that 
bourn  the  one  whence  no  traveller  returns  ! 

The  difference  between  the  construction  of  the 
Latin  and  Greek  languages  and  that  of  the  English 
language  is  not  accidental,  nor  the  product  of  a 
merely  unconscious  exercise  of  power.  It  is  the 
result  of  a direct  exertion  of  the  human  will  to  make 
the  instrument  of  its  expression  more  and  more 
simple  and  convenient.  The  change  which  has 
produced  this  difference  began  a very  long  while 
ago,  and  for  many  centuries  has  been  making  more 
or  less  progress  among  all  the  Indo-European  lan- 
guages. Latin  is  a less  grammatical  language  than 
its  elder  sister,  the  Greek  ; the  modern  Latin  or 
Romance  tongues,  Italian,  Spanish,  French,  are  less 
grammatical  than  the  Latin  ; the  Teutonic  tongues 
are  less  grammatical  than  the  Romance  ; and  of  the 
Teutonic  tongues  English  is  the  least  grammatical  — 
so  little  dependent  is  it,  indeed,  upon  the  forms  of 
grammar  for  the  structure  of  the  sentence,  that  it 
cannot  rightly  be  said  to  have  any  grammar. 

And  here  I will  remark  that  it  is  in  this  wide  dif- 
ference between  the  etymology  and  the  syntax  of 
the  modern  languages  — French,  Italian,  Spanish, 
German,  and  English,  and  those  of  the  Greek  and 
Latin  — that  the  incomparable  superiority  of  the 
latter  as  the  means  of  education  consists.  The 
languages  of  modern  Europe,  widely  dissimilai 


GRAMMAR,  ENGLISH  AND  LATIN.  293 

although  they  seem  to  the  superficial  reader,  differ 
chiefly  in  their  vocabularies ; and  even  there  much 
of  their  unlikeness  is  due  to  the  difference  of  pro- 
nunciation, an  incidental  variation  which  obtains  to 
a considerable  dejjree  in  the  same  lanoruaor-e  within 
the  period  of  one  hundred  years.  In  structure  the 
modern  languages  are  too  much  alike  to  make  the 
study  of  any  one  of  them  by  a person  to  whom  any 
other  is  vernacular  very  valuable  as  a means  of  men- 
tal discipline.  They  are  acquired  with  great  facility 
by  people  of  no  education  and  very  inferior  mental 
powers  : couriers  and  valets-de-^lace ^ who  speak 
and  write  three  or  four  of  them  fluently  and  cor- 
rectly, being  numerous  in  all  the  capitals  of  the 
European  Continent. 

Education  is  not  the  getting  of  knowledge,  but  dis- 
cipline, development ; and  it  is  not  for  the  knowledge 
we  obtain  at  school  and  college  that  we  pass  our 
early  3^ears  in  study.  The  mere  acquaintance  with 
facts  that  we  then  painfully  acquire,  we  could,  in  our 
maturer  years,  obtain  in  a tenth  part  of  the  time  that 
we  give  to  our  education.  Nor  is  it  necessary  in 
modern  days  that  any  one  should  go  for  knowledge 
to  Greek  and  Latin  authors.  All  the  lore  and  the 
thought  of  the  past  is  easily  attainable  in  a living 
tongue.  And,  finally,  to  the  demand  why,  if  boys 
must  study  language  as  a means  of  education,  can 
they  not  study  French  or  German,  languages  which 
are  now  spoken,  and  which  will  be  of  some  practical 
(/.  money-getting)  use  to  them,  the  answer  iS; 
that  the  value  of  the  classical  tongues  as  means  of 
education  is  in  the  very  fact  that  they  are  dead, 
find  that  their  structure  is  so  remote  from  that  o^ 
3urs,  that  to  dismember  their  sentences  and  recon 


294 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Blruct  them  according  to  our  own  fashion  of  speak- 
ing is  such  an  exercise  of  perception,  judgment,  and 
memory,  such  a training  in  thought  and  in  the  use 
of  language,  as  can  be  found  in  no  other  study  or  in- 
tellectual exertion  to  which  immature  and  untrained 
persons  of  ordinary  powers  are  competent.  To  us 
of  English  race  and  speech  this  discipline  is  more 
severe,  and  therefore  more  valuable,  than  to  any 
people  of  the  Continent,  because  of  the  greater  dis- 
tance, in  this  respect,  between  our  own  language 
than  between  any  one  of  theirs  and  the  Greek  and 
Latin,  and  the  wider  difference  between  the  English 
and  the  Greek  or  the  Latin  cast  of  thought.  Be- 
cause, to  repeat  what  has  already  been  insisted 
upon,  the  Greek  and  the  Latin  languages  are  con- 
structed upon  syntactical  principles,  which,  in  their 
turn,  rest  upon  etymological  or  formal  inflection, 
and  English,  being  almost  without  formal  inflection, 
and  nearly  independent  of  syntax  — without  dis- 
tinction of  mood  in  verbs,  and  with  almost  none  of 
tense  and  person  — with  only  one  case  of  nouns, 
and  with  neither  number  nor  case  in  adjectives  — 
with  no  gender  at  all  of  nouns,  of  adjectives,  or  of 
participles  — without  laws  of  agreement  or  of  govern- 
ment, the  very  verb  in  English  being,  in  most  cases, 
independent  of  its  nominative  as  to  form,  rests  solely 
upon  the  relations  of  thought ; in  brief,  because 
the  Greek  and  Latin  languages  have  grammar — - 
formal  grammar  — and  the  English  language,  to 
all  intents  and  purposes,  has  none. 

I low  this  is,  and  why,  will  be  more  fully  and 
particularly  considered  in  the  next  chapter. 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE. 


29s 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE. 

IN  the  last  chapter  it  was  set  forth  that  English 
is  an  almost  grammarless  language.  The  two 
elements  of  grammar  being  etymology,  — which 
concerns  the  inflections  of  words ; that  is,  changes 
in  form  to  express  modification  of  meaning,  — and 
syntax,  — which  concerns  the  construction  of  sen- 
tences according  to  the  formal  relations  of  words,  — 
and  the  English  language  being  almost  without  the 
former,  and  therefore  equally  without  the  latter,  its 
use  must  be,  in  a corresponding  degree,  untram- 
melled by  the  rules  of  grammar,  and  subject  only 
to  the  laws  of  reason,  which  we  call  logic.  We 
have,  indeed,  been  long  afflicted  with  grammarians 
from  whom  we  have  suffered  much,  and  to  whose 
usurped  authority  we  — that  is,  the  most  of  us  — 
have  submitted,  with  hardly  a murmur  or  a ques- 
tion. But  the  truth  of  this  matter  is,  that  of  the 
rules  given  in  the  books  called  English  Grammars, 
some  are  absurd,  and  the  most  are  superfluous. 
For  example,  it  can  be  easily  shown  that  in  the 
English  language,  with  few  exceptions,  the  fol- 
lowing simple  and  informal  relations  of  words 
prevail : — 


296 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


The  verb  needs  not,  and  generally  does  not, 
agree  with  its  nominative  case  in  number  and  per- 
son : 

Pronouns  do  not  agree  with  their  antecedent 
nouns  in  person,  number,  and  gender : 

Active  verbs  do  not  govern  the  objective  case,  or 
any  other : 

Prepositions  do  not  govern  the  objective  case,  or 
any  other : 

One  verb  does  not  govern  another  in  the  infin- 
itive mood : 

Nor  is  the  infinitive  a mood,  nor  is  it  governed 
by  substantive,  adjective,  or  participle  : 

Conjunctions  need  not  connect  the  same  moods 
and  tenses  of  verbs. 

The  grammarians  have  laid  down  laws  directly 
to  the  contrary  of  these  assertions ; but  the  gram- 
marians are  wrong,  and,  in  the  very  nature  of 
things,  cannot  be  right;  for  their  laws  assume  as 
conditions  precedent  the  existence  of  things  which 
do  not  exist.  In  English,  the  verb  is  almost  with- 
out distinction  of  number  and  of  person ; the  noun 
is  entirely  without  gender,  and  has  no  objective 
case ; the  adjective  and  the  participle  are  without 
number,  gender,  and  case  ; the  infinitive  is  not  a 
mood,  it  is  not  an  inflection  of  the  verb,  or  a part 
of  it ; and  conjunctions  are  free  from  all  rules  but 
those  of  common  sense  and  taste. 

No  term  was  ever  more  unwisely  chosen  than 
govcrnmcfit  to  express  the  relations  of  words  in  the 
sentence.  It  is  one  of  the  mysterious  metaphors 
which  have  been  imposed  upon  the  world,  gen- 
erally by  tyrants  or  tricksters,  and  with  which 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE.  297 

thought  is  confused  and  language  darkened.  In 
grammar  it  implies,  or  seems  to  impl}^,  a power  in 
one  word  over  another.  Now,  there  is  in  no  lan- 
guage any  such  power,  or  any  relation  which  is 
properly  symbolized  by  such  a power. 

In  Latin,  Greek,  and  other  inflected  languages, 
the  forms  of  the  words  of  which  a sentence  is  made 
up,  present  outward  signs  of  requirement  which 
give  some  hint  as  to  what  the  grammarians  mean 
by  one  word’s  governing  another.  But  in  English 
there  is  no  such  visible  sign ; and  this  arbitrary, 
mysterious,  and  metaphorical  phrase,  government, 
is,  to  young  minds,  and  particularly  if  they  are 
reasoning  and  not  merely  receptive,  perplexing  in 
the  extreme.  Even  in  languages  which  have  va- 
riety of  inflection,  words  do  not  govern  each  other; 
but  they  may  be  said  to  fit  into  each  other  by  cor- 
responding forms  which  indicate  their  proper  con- 
nection, so  that  a sentence  is  dovetailed  together. 
In  English,  however,  with  the  exception  of  a few 
pronouns,  one  case  of  nouns,  and  two  tenses  and 
one  person  of  the  verb,  all  the  words  are  as  round 
and  smooth,  and  as  independent  of  each  other  in 
form,  as  the  pebbles  on  the  sea-shore.  The  at- 
tempt to  bind  such  words  together  by  the  links  of 
etymology  and  syntax,  or,  in  other  words,  to  make 
grammatical  rules  for  a language  in  which  the  noun 
has  only  one  case,  — in  which  there  is  no  gender 
of  noun,  adjective,  or  participle, — in  which  dis- 
tinction of  tense,  number,  person  in  verbs  is  almost 
unknown,  and  that  of  voice  absolutely  wanting,  is, 
on  its  face,  absurd. 

Ti  English,  words  are  formed  into  sentences  by 


298 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


the  operation  of  an  invisible  power,  which  is  like 
magnetism.  Each  one  is  charged  with  a meaning 
which  gives  it  a tendency  toward  some  of  those  in  the 
sentence,  and  particularly  to  one,  and  which  repels 
it  from  the  others ; and  he  who  subtly  divines  and 
dexterously  uses  this  attraction,  filling  his  words 
with  a living  but  latent  light  and  heat,  which  makes 
them  leap  to  each  other  and  cling  together  while 
they  transmit  his  freely-flowing  thought,  is  a master 
of  the  English  language,  although  he  may  be  igno- 
rant and  uninstructed  in  its  use.  And  here  is  one 
difference  between  the  English  and  the  ancient 
classic  tongues.  The  great  writers  of  the  latter 
were,  and,  it  would  seem,  must  needs  have  been, 
men  of  high  culture  — grammarians  in  the  ancient 
sense  of  the  word,  which  I have  before  mentioned ; 
but  some  of  the  best  English  that  has  been  written 
is  the  simple,  strong  utterance  of  uneducated  men, 
entirely  undisciplined  in  the  use  of  language. 
True,  they  had  genius,  — some  of  them,  at  least ; 
but  genius,  giving  them  strength  and  clearness  of 
imagination,  or  of  reason,  could  yet  not  have  taught 
them  to  write  with  purity  and  power  a language 
like  the  Greek,  in  which  the  verb  has  three  voices, 
five  moods,  and  two  aorists,  and  nine  persons  for 
every  tense;  in  which  all  nouns  have  three  num- 
bers, and  each  noun  a gender  of  its  own ; and 
every  adjective  and  participle  three  genders  and 
six  cases,  a copiousness  of  inflection  possessed  by 
the  very  articles,  dehnite  and  indefinite.  The 
Greek  language  may  be  the  noblest  and  most  per- 
fect instrument  ever  invented  by  man  for  the  ex- 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE.  299 

pression  of  his  thought ; but  certainly,  of  all  the 
tongues  ever  spoken  by  civilized  men,  it  is  the 
most  complicated.  And  I venture  to  express  my 
'£)elief,  that  its  complication,  so  far  from  being  an 
element  of  its  power,  is  a sign  of  rudeness,  and  a 
remnant  of  barbarism ; that  the  Greek  and  Latin 
authors  were  great,  not  by  reason  of  the  verbal 
forms  and  the  grammatical  structure  of  their  lan- 
guages, but  in  spite  of  them  ; and  that  our  mother 
tongue,  in  freeing  herself  from  these,  has  only  cast 
aside  the  trammels  of  strength  and  the  disguises 
of  beauty. 

But  I must  turn  from  these  general  considerations 
of  my  subject  to  such  an  examination  of  its  partic- 
ulars as  will  sustain  the  position  which  I have  taken. 
And  first  of  the  verb.  The  Greek  verb  has,  for 
the  expression  of  the  various  moods  and  times  of 
.acting  and  suffering  by  various  persons,  more  than 
five  hundred  inflections  ; and  these  inflections  so 
modify,  b}^  processes  called  augmentation  and  re- 
duplication, and  by  signs  of  person  and  of  number, 
both  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  the  verb,  that, 
to  the  uninstructed  eye,  it  passes  beyond  recogni- 
tion. Thus,  for  instance,  ivniM  i^ticpto)^  (the  verb 
which  occupies  in  Greek  Grammars  the  place  of 
to  love  in  English  Grammars) , assumes,  among  its 
changes,  these  dissimilar  forms:  TUTrrw  {tii^to^^  1 
strike;  hsTvcpsiv  {616111.^116111)^  I had  struck;  lunrho)- 
uav  {tuftetosan)^  let  them  strike;  izertcpeiaav  {etetu- 
fheisan) , they  had  struck ; jiipag  {tu^sas) , having 
struck:  icvmofieOov  {ettipiomet/ion) , we  two  were 
struck;  iivxiitiizedov  {etu^samethon) y we  two  strucl< 


300 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


ourselves ; rvcpdr^aoifjrjv  {titfhtheesoimeeii) , I might 
be  about  to  be  struck.  These  are  but  specimens 
of  the  more  than  five  hundred  bricks  which  go  to 
make  up  the  regular  Greek  verbal  edifice.  Each 
person  of  each  case  has  its  peculiar  significant 
form  or  inflection,  eveiy  one  of  which  must  be 
learned  by  heart. 

Looking  back  upon  this  single  and  simplest 
specimen  of  its  myriad  inflections,  I cannot  wonder 
that  boys  of  English  race  regard  Greek  as  an 
invention  of  the  enemy  of  mankind.  But  this 
variety  of  inflection  has  not  entirely  passed  away 
with  the  life  of  the  ancient  Hellenic  people  and 
language.  It  has  been  shown  that  the  French  lan- 
guage has  three  hundred  different  terminations  for 
the  simple  cases  of  the  ten  regular  conjugations, 
one  thousand  - seven  hundred  and  fifty-five  for  the 
thirty-nine  irregular  conjugations,  and  two  hundred 
for  the  auxiliary  verbs  — making  a sum  total  of  two 
thousand  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  terminations 
which  must  be  learned  by  heart.*  The  verbs  of 
the  Greek  language  must  have,  I think,  in  all, 
more  than  ten  times  that  number  of  changes  in 
form.  Now,  the  English  verb  has,  in>  its  regular 
or  weak  form,  only  four  inflections;  and  in  its 
so-called  irregular,  or  strong,  or  ancient  form,  only 
five.  These  inflections  serve  for  the  two  voices, 
five  moods,  six  tenses,  and  six  persons  which  must 
have  expression  in  a language  that  answers  the 
needs  of  a civilized,  cultured  people.  The  four 
forms  of  the  verb  to  love,  for  instance,  are  love, 
loves,  loved,  and  loving.  The  first  two  and  the  last 


• Sinibaldo,  quoted  by  Max  Muller. 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE. 


301 


express  action  indefinite  as  to  time,  the  third,  definite 
action.  Two  others,  lovest  and  lovedest,  are  to  be 
found  in  the  Grammars,  but  they  have  been  thrown 
out  of  use  by  the  same  process  of  simplification 
which  has  cast  off  the  mass  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
inflections  during  the  transformation  of  that  lan- 
guage into  English.  The  present  tense  indicative 
of  the  verb  to  love  is,  therefore,  now  as  follows : — 

I love,  We  love, 

You  love.  You  love. 

He  loves.  They  love. 

Here  are  five,  and,  in  effect,  six  nominatives  of 
two  numbers  and  three  persons,  but  only  two  forms 
of  the  verb.  How,  then,  to  return  to  our  rules 
of*grammar,  can  the  verb  agree  with  its  nominative 
in  number  and  person?  The  truth  is,  that  it  does 
not  so  agree,  because  those  who  use  it  have  found 
that  such  agreement  is  not  necessary  to  the  clear 
expression  of  thought.  / love  and  we  love  are  just 
as  exact  in  meaning  as  amo^  amamus.  The  past 
tense  of  the  English  verb  has  not  even  one  inflec- 
tion. It  is  as  follows  : — 

I loved,  We  loved, 

You  loved.  You  loved, 

He  loved,  They  loved. 

It  was  not  always  thus.  The  Anglo-Saxon  verb, 
although,  like  the  English,  it  had  but  one  voice  and 
two  tenses,  had  inflection  of  person  and  number. 
The  present,  or  indefinite,  and  the  perfect  tenses 
of  lujian^  to  love,  were  as  follows  : — 

PRESENT. 

ic  lufige  we  ’ufiath, 

thu  lufast,  ge  lufiath, 

he  h’fath,  hi  lufiath. 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


302 


PERFECT. 

ic  lufode,  we  lufodon, 

Ihu  lufodest,  ge  lufodon, 

he  lufode,  hi  lufodon. 

These  inflections  appear  in  what  is  called  the 

Early  English  stage  of  our  language,  and  some 
of  them  are  found  even  in  the  writings  of  Chaucer 
and  Gower,  although  in  the  days  of  those  poets 
they  had  lost  their  old  force,  and  were  rapidly 
passing  away.  They  were  dropped  almost  with 
the  purpose  of  simplifying  the  language,  of  doing 
away  wflth  complications  which  were  found  need- 
less. It  was  seen  that  as  the  noun  or  pronoun 
always  accompanied  the  verb,  the  plural  form  in 
ath  or  en  was  not  necessary  for  the  exact  expres- 
sion of  thought,  and  that  we  love  and  we  loved 
were  as  unmistakeable  in  their  significance  as  we 
liijlath  and  we  lufodon  ; and  so  as  to  the  other 
numbers  and  persons  of  the  two  tenses.  The  plu- 
ral form  in  en  held  a place  long  after  other  inflec- 
tions had  disappeared  ; but  that  disappeared  from 
the  written  language  about  the  end  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  and  at  last  from  the  speech  of  the  com- 
mon people. 

The  inflections  of  the  singular  number  had  a 
stronger  hold  upon  the  language,  probably  because 
the  singular  number  is  more  frequently  used  in  the 
common  intercourse  of  life  than  the  plural,  and 
because  it  is  found  more  necessary  to  distinguish 
between  the  actions,  thoughts,  and  conditions  of 
individuals  than  betwmen  those  of  masses  or  groups. 
The  distinctive  inflection  of  the  second  person 
singular,  est,  held  its  owm  until  the  Elizabethan 
period,  when  it  began  to  disappear.  It  prevails  in 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE. 


303 


the  English  Bible,  but  is  less  common  in  Shake- 
speare and  the  general  literature  of  the  period; 
one  reason  being  that  precision  of  language  is 
regarded  as  becoming  solemnity  of  occasion  or  of 
subject;  another  being  the  increasing  use  of  the 
second  person  plural  for  both  the  singular  and 
plural,  which  is  now  prevalent,  not  only  in  Eng- 
lish, but  in  most  European  languages. 

Again,  the  change  from  thou  lovest  and  thou 
lovedest  to  you  love  and  you  loved^  seems  to  have 
been  made  merely  from  the  wish  to  do  away  with  a 
superlluous  inflection.  If,  in  the  course  of  years, 
the  inflection  of  the  third  person  singular  should 
follow  that  of  the  second,  and  we  should  say  he 
love^  the  change  would  be  directly  in  the  line  of  the 
natural  movement  of  our  language.  Should  it  not 
take  place,  the  preservation  of  this  lonely,  unsup- 
ported inflection  will  probably  be  owing  to  the 
restraints  of  criticism,  and  the  introduction  of  con- 
sciousness and  culture  among  the  mass  of  speakers. 
To  some  of  my  readers  it  may  seem  impossible  that 
this  change  should  be  made,  and  that  he  love  would 
be  barbarous  and  almost  incomprehensible.  But 
such  is  not  the  effect  of  identity  of  form  between 
the  third  person  and  the  first  of  the  perfect  tense  ; 
and  as  it  is  neither  absurd  nor  obscure  to  say  I 
loved ^ you  [/.  e. , thou]  loved,  he  loved,  why  should 
it  be  so  to  say  I love,  you  [f.  e.,  thou]  love,  he 
love  7 

To  turn  now  to  the  first  rule  of  our  text-books  of 
English  grammar  — "A  verb  must  agree  with  its 
nominative  case  in  number  and  person.”  In  this 
rule,  if  agree  means  anything,  it  can  only  mean  that 


304  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

the  verb  must  conform  itself  in  some  manner  to  its 
subject,  so  that  it  may  be  seen  that  it  belongs  to  that 
subject.  This  is  the  case  in  Latin,  for  instance,  in 
which  language  every  person  of  each  number  of 
the  verb  has  a form  which  indicates  that  person. 

[ego]  amo,  I love,  [vios]  amamus,  we  love, 

[tu]  amas,  you  [i.  e.,  thou]  love,  [vos]  amatis,  you  love, 

[ille]  amat,  he  loves,  [illi]  amant,  they  love. 

But  in  English,  for  five  of  these  six  persons  the 
verb  has  but  one  form.  It  has  been  released  from 
all  conformity  to  person  except  in  the  third  person 
singular.  It  has  but  one  form  for  all  the  other 
persons,  and  it  therefore  cannot  agree  with  its 
nominative  in  number  and  person,  except  in  the 
case  specified.  To  say  that  this  one  form  of  the 
verb  does  asrree  with  all  those  forms  of  the  nom- 
inative  — that  love  does  agree  with  /,  and  you, 
singular,  we,  you,,  and  they,  plural  is  a mere 
begging  of  the  question  by  a childish  and  stren- 
uous "making  believe.”  And,  indeed,  as  I trust 
most  of  my  readers  now  begin  to  see,  nearly  all  of 
vDur  so-called  English  grammar  is  mere  make- 
believe  grammar.  No  more  words  should  be 
necessary  to  show  that  verbs  which  have  not  num- 
ber and  person  cannot  agree  with  nominatives, 
or  with  anything  else,  in  number  and  person. 
And  yet  that  they  do  so  agree  is  dinned  into  chil- 
dren from  their  infancy  until  they  cease  to  receive 
instruction  . and  they  are  required  to  cite  a rule 
which  they  cannot  understand,  as  the  law  of  a 
relation  which  does  not  exist. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  language  was  even  charier  as 
to  tenses  of  the  verb  than  as  to  numbers  and  persons 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE.  305 

[t  had  but  two  of  the  former,  the  present,  or  rather 
the  indefinite,  and  the  past.  As  it  passed  into  Eng- 
lish, this  number  was  not  increased.  No  English 
verb  has  more  than  two  tenses.  With  these  and  the 
two  participles,  present  and  past,  English  speaking 
folk  express  all  the  varieties  of  mood  and  tense,  and 
also  of  voice  ; for  in  English  there  is  but  one  voice, 
the  active.  The  Anglo-Saxon  present  or  indefinite 
tense  expressed  future  action  as  well  as  present. 
Ic  lufige  (I  love)  predicated  loving  in  the  future  as 
well  as  in  the  present  time.  Nor  has  this  form  of 
speech  passed  away  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  folk. 
To  this  day  we  say,  I go  to  town  to-morrow ; Do 
you  go  to  town  to-morrow?  The  form,  / shall 
go  to  town,  is  rarely  used  except  for  emphasis ; 
that,  I will  go,  except  to  express  determination. 
Indeed,  I go  is  the  more  elegant  form ; is  heard 
most  generally  from  the  lips  of  speakers  of  the 
highest  culture.  And  in  fact,  the  commonest  predi- 
cation of  future  action  is  one  which  expresses  action 
passing  continuously  at  time  present  — I am  going, 
I am  going  to  town  to-morrow. 

This  use  of  the  present  or  indefinite  tense  is  not 
at  all  peculiar  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  language,  or  to 
the  English.  It  appears  in  many  others.  Simon 
Peter  said  unto  them,  I go  a fishing ; they  say  unto 
nim.  We  also  go  with  thee.”  Two  Greek  verbs  are 
here  translated  go  ; but  both  the  first,  vn<x)'M  {Jiti-pa~ 
goi),  and  the  second,  sQ/ofisdu  ^ erchometha') , are  in 
the  present  tense.  In  this  passage,  too,  I go,  I am 
going,  I shall  go,  and  we  go,  we  are  going,  we  will 
go,  would  be  equivalents.  The  peculiarity  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  and  the  English  languages  in  this 
20 


3o6 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


respect  (if  they  are  two  languages,  which  some 
philologists  with  show  of  i cason  deny,  on  the  ground 
that  our  present  speech  is  only  a lineal  descendant 
of  that  of  our  forefathers),  — the  peculiarity  of  our 
tongue  as  to  this  tense  and  others  is,  that  while,  like 
others,  it  uses  the  present  indefinite  form  to  ex- 
press future  action,  it  has  not  developed  a form  of 
the  verb  for  the  special  expression  of  that  action,  or, 
in  fact,  of  any  other  action  but  that  which  is  either 
present  or  past.  We  say,  I shall  go;  but  shall 
can  no  more  be  a part  of  the  verb  go  than  will,  or 
may, ox:  can.  We  say,  I have  loved ; but,  again,  have 
is  no  more  a part  of  the  verb  love  than  to  he  is, 
when  we  say.  If  I were  loving.  When  we  say,  I 
am  loving,  we  only  say,  in  other  words,  1 exist 
loving  ; and  what  connection  has  am  with  loving 
other  than  exist  would  have  were  it  used  in  the 
place  of  the  former?  We,  like  other  peoples,  are 
obliged  to  express  all  the  different  times  of  action, 
present,  past,  and  future  ; but  most  other  peoples  do 
this  by  inflections,  that  is,  by  real  tenses  of  the  verb. 
As  English  has  diflerent  words  for  expressing  the 
time  present  and  time  past  of  the  same  action, 
other  tongues  have  different  words  for  expressing 
all  the  varieties  of  the  time  of  action. 

In  English  we  say,  I love,  I have  loved,  I shall 
have  loved  ; but  in  Latin  the  same  thoughts  are 
expressed  respectively  by  the  different  single  words 
amo,  amavi,  amavero.  To  express  what  the  Ro- 
man expressed  by  amavi,  an  inflection  of  amo, 
we  use  a verb  have,  and  the  perfect  participle  of 
another  verb.  That  participle  is  an  expression  of 
completed  action  in  the  abstract  — loved.  It  has  no 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE. 


307 


relation  to  person,  whether  the  person  is  the  subject 
or  the  object  of  the  action,  — a point  to  be  remem- 
bered in  our  consideration  of  voice  — or  to  speci|ic 
time  or  occasion.  The  only  real  verb  that  we  use 
in  this  instance  is  one  that  signifies  possession.  We 
say,  I have  — have  what?  possess  what?  Posses- 
sion implies  an  object  possessed ; and  in  this  case  it 
is  that  completed  action  which  is  expressed  in  the 
abstract  by  the  participle.  Loved  is  here  the  object 
of  the  verb  have  as  much  as  money  would  be  in  the 
sentence,  I have  money ; and  I have  loved  is  no 
more  a verb,  or  a part  or  tense  of  a verb,  than  2 
have  money  is,  or  I have  to  go.  In  the  first  and 
the  last  of  these,  loved  and  to  go  are  as  plainly 
objects  of  the  verb  have  as  money  is  in  the  second ; 
nor  is  this  relation  at  all  affected  by  the  mere  verbal 
origin  of  the  participle  and  the  infinitive. 

As  to  the  latter,  what  the  grammarians  call  the 
infinitive  mood  is  no  mood  at  all,  but  a substantive, 
of  verbal  origin.  It  is  the  name  of  the  verb,  and 
so  may  well  be  called  a substantive.  It  is  not  so 
called  for  that  reason,  but  because  there  is  no  qual- 
ity of  a substantive  which  the  infinitive  has  not,  and 
but  one  relation  of  the  substantive  — that  of  pos- 
session— which  it  cannot  assume;  and  there  is  no 
distinctive  quality  of  the  verb  which  it  does  not  lack, 
or  relation  of  the  verb  which  it  can  assume.  For 
instance,  / have  to  go  is  merely.  It  belongs  to  me  to 
go.  To  go  belongs  to  me  — forms  of  expression  not 
uncommon  among  the  most  cultivated  and  idiomatic 
speakers,  and  which  are  not  only  correct,  but  ele- 
gant. - But  that  which  is  expressed  by  a verb  cannot 
belong  to  an}^  one.  Only  a thir^g,  something  sub- 


3o8  words  and  their  uses. 

stantial  (although  not  necessarily  material  or  phys- 
ical), i.  e.y  a substantive,  can  belong.  This  is  no 
new  discovery ; and  yet  grammarians  have  gone 
on  for  generations  teaching  children  and  strangers 
that  to  go  is  a mood,  as  they  have  taught  them 
that  I have  gone  and  I shall  go  are  tenses  of  a 
verb.* 

The  substantive  character  of  the  infinitive  is  to  be 
discovered  in  those  phrases  wdiich  the  grammarians 
call  the  future  tense  indicative,  and  the  present 
and  imperfect  tenses  subjunctive  — I shall  love,  I 
may  love,  and  I might  love.  These  are  no  tenses, 
and  have  no  semblance  of  tenses  ; they  are  phrases, 
or  rather  complete  sentences,  which  express  future 
or  contingent  action. 

The  formation  of  the  future  indicative  and  of  the 
tenses  of  the  subjunctive  mood  was  in  this  wise : 
The  Anglo-Saxon  infinitive  was  formed  in  an  ox  en, 
and  did  not  admit  the  preposition  to  before  it ; but 
there  was  a second  infinitive,  formed  with  the  prep- 
osition, having  a dative  sense,  and  being,  in  fact,  a 
dative  form  of  the  infinitive,  conveying  that  sense 
of  obligation  or  pertinence  to  which  linguists  have 
given  the  name  dative.  Thus  witan  is  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  infinitive,  meaning  to  know ; but  there  was 
used  another  infinitive,  to  witanne^  implying  duty, 
obligation.  For  example.  Hit  is  t6  witanne^  it  is 

* Mary  Elstob  alone,  among  Anglo-Saxon  grammarians  (“The  English-Saxon 
Grammar,”  4to,  London,  1715,  P-  31),  mentions  “a  future  tense  or  time  to  come”  in 
tiicxt  language ; of  which  her  example  is,  “ ic  standi  mi  rihtc,  or  on  snntnc  tinian,  I 
shall  stand  by-and-by,  or  some  time  or  other ; ” and  a very  pretty  sort  of  future  tense 
tt  is — one  that  must  commend  itself  to  some  of  my  critics,  and  all  the  gentlemen  who 
‘ usually  talk  of  a noun  and  a verb.”  For  if  I stand  at  some  time  or  other  be  not  as 
good  a tense  as  / shall  have  stood,  they  may  be  able  to  tell  the  reason  why.  I regret 
for  their  sakes,  that  Mistress  Elstob  is  not,  at  the  present  day,  a very  high  authorit; 
pn  the  Anglo-Saxon  language. 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE.  3O9 

to  know,  {.  e.,  it  should  be  known,  or  ought  to  be 
known.  This  very  phrase  (with  the  mere  rubbing 
off  of  the  termination  during  its  passage  through  the 
centuries)  has  come  down  to  us  as  to  wit.  !Bui 
to  know  itself  has  been  thus  used  for  five  hundred 
years,  as  in  the  following  passage  in  Purvey’s 
Prologue  to  the  revised  Wycliffe  Bible,  A.  D. 
1388:- 

“First  it  is  to  know  that  the  best  translating  is  to  translate 
after  the  sentence,  and  not  only  after  the  words.” 

And  it  also  appears  not  infrequently  nowadays  in 
the  phrase,  You  are  to  know  — thus  and  so,  mean- 
ing, You  should  know.  You  ought  to  know.  It  be- 
hooves you  to  know,  thus  and  so  ; and  constantly  in 
the  colloquial  phrases,  I have  to  go  here  or  there,  I 
have ‘to  do  thus  and  so.  The  phrase.  This  house 
to  let^  which  some  uneasy  precisians  would  change 
into  This  house  to  be  let^  is  quite  correct,  and  has 
come  down  to  us,  as  it  will  be  seen,  from  the  re- 
motest period. 

Now,  when  Anglo-Saxon  was  becoming  English 
by  the  dropping  of  its  few  inflections  and  the  lay- 
ing aside  of  its  light  bonds  of  formal  grammar,  the 
form  of  the  infinitive  which  remained  was  natu- 
rally the  one  which  was  indicated,  not  by  an  inflec- 
tion, but  by  a preposition.  At  first,  and  indeed  for 
a century  or  two,  the  inflected  termination  was 
retained,  but  it  would  seem  merely  from  habit, 
with  no  significance  attached  to  it.  Thus  in  the 
passage  from  Chaucer’s  "Troilus  and  Cresseide” 
quoted  in  the  last  chapter,  the  first  line  is,  — 

“The  double  sorrow  of  Troilus  to  tellen." 

But  in  Chaucer’s  day,  our  forefathers  were  be* 


310 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


ginning  to  drop  the  n and  the  syllable  of  which  it 
was  part,  and  instead  of  to  loven  and  to  liven ^ to 
write  to  live  and  to  love,  as  we  do.  But  they  wrote 
to  telle,  as  we  do  not ; the  final  e,  which  appears 
in  old,  and  in  some  modern  forms  of  certain  verbs, 
being  in  its  place,  not  by  mere  accident,  but  as  a 
remnant  of  the  old  infinitive.  Hence,  too,  this  final 
e was  sometimes  pronounced,  as  every  student  of 
Chaucer  knows.  The  dropping  of  old  plurals  ot 
verbs  and  nouns  in  en  (a  great  loss  in  the  latter 
case,  I think)  left  many  words  ending  in  silent  e 
preceded  by  a double  consonant,  — a form  which 
began  to  pass  rapidly  away  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  but  wdiich  ma}^  still  be  traced  in 
our  orthography  ; for  instance,  the  very  verb  in  the 
line  from  "Troilus  and  Cresseide.”  If  wm  do  not 
write  tellen,  there  is  no  etymological  reason  wh^^  we 
should  not  write  tcL  The  cause  of  the  present 
form  of  the  verb  is,  that  in  Anglo-Saxon  it  was  a 
diss3dlable,  and  that  in  dropping  the  last  syllable, 
only  its  essentials,  the  vowel  and  the  following  con- 
sonant, were  removed.  The  double  consonant  is 
now  retained  in  some  words,  and  the  silent  vow^el 
in  some  others,  as  love  and  live,  for  orthoepicaJ 
reasons. 

To  return  to  the  formation  of  what  the  gramma- 
rians call  the  future  indicative  tense,  and  to  the 
tenses  of  the  subjunctive  mood.  These,  they  tell 
ns,  are  formed  by  means  of  auxiliary  verbs.  But 
that  is  a very  misleading  representation  of  the  case, 
consequent  upon  the  endeavor  to  keep  up  the  fic- 
tion of  formal  grammar  in  English  — the  make^ 
believe  system.  In  fact,  the  auxiliary  theory  is  a 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE.  3II 

mere  clumsy  sham.  In  I am  loved ^ I will  gOy 
there  are  no  auxiliary  or  really  helping  words. 
Neither  word  needs  the  help  of  the  other,  except,  as 
other  words  do,  for  the  making  of  a sentence,  which 
each  of  these  examples  is,  completely.  In  I am 
loved y and  I will  go  y am  and  will  are  no  more 
helping  verbs  than  exist  and  determine  are  in  the 
sentences,  I exist  loved,  and  I determine  to  go. 
Loved  and  go  will  each  make  a perfect  sense  with  1 
and  without  any  help  — I loved,  I go.  In  the  sen- 
tences I am  loved  and  I will  go,  loved  and  go  are 
not  verbs.  The  former  is  a participle,  or  verbal 
adjective,  the  latter  a verbal  substantive.  The 
Anglo-Saxon  had  not  even  any  seeming  auxiliary 
verbs.  Its  use  of  habbauy  beouy  willany  magany 
cunnan  and  mot  (2.  e.y  have,  be,  will,  may,  can, 
might),  does  not  convey  the  notion  of  time  and 
contingency,  but  simply  predicates  possession,  ex- 
istence, volition,  necessity,  power;  and  hence  came 
those  phrases  by  which  we  speak  of  action  or  exist- 
ence in  the  future  or  under  supposed  circumstances. 
I will  tell  is  in  old  English,  I will  telleUy  and  this 
is  merely  the  verb  I will  joined  to  the  infinitive 
or  verbal  substantive  tellen.  From  the  latter  the 
last  syllable  has  been  worn ; but  none  the  less  1 
will  tell  is  simply  I will  to  tell.  The  dative  per- 
taining idea  is  conveyed,  i,  e.y  my  will  is  to  tell, 
my  '.vill  is  for  telling,  or  toward  telling.  Thus  1 
can  love  is  merely  I can  to  love,  I am  able  to 
love ; and  so  it  is  with  the  phrases  / 7night  lovey  // 
could  lovCy  I would  lovCy  I should  love.  They 
are  all,  not  verbs  or  parts  of  verbs,  but  phrases 
formed  by  the  use  of  the  indicative  present  of  one 


312 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


verb  with  the  infinitive  or  verbal  substantive  of  an- 
other. 

By  this  discarding  of  inflected  tenses  the  Eng- 
lish language  has  gained,  not  only  in  simplicity,  but 
in  flexibility  and  variety.  The  Latin  language, 
for  instance,  has,  for  the  expression  of  I might  love, 
and  also  of  I could,  and  of  I would,  and  of  I should 
— love,  only  the  single  inflected  form  a?nare?n : 
whereas  we  are  able  to  express,  in  regard  to  the 
same  time  of  action,  four  very  marked  and  differing 
shades  of  meaning,  while  we  are  entirely  freed  from 
the  grammatical  restraints  and  complications  im- 
posed by  inflection.  The  Latin  folk  were  obliged 
to  remember  six  forms  for  this  one  tense,  and  yet 
were  able  to  make  no  distinction  in  tense  between 
the  ideas  of  possibility,  power,  volition,  and  obli- 
gation, in  connection  with  future  action. 


SINGULAR. 

1.  Ainarera 

2.  Amares, 

3.  Amaret, 


PLURAL. 

1.  Amaremus, 

2.  Amaretis, 

3.  Amarent. 


Whereas  in  English  we,  by  a simple  change  of 
the  subject,  noun  or  pronoun,  say,  — 


I 

might,  or 

You 

could,  or 

He 

would,  or 

We  ' 

should. 

You 

(according  to  the  meaning 

They 

to  be  conveyed) 

But  we  do  not  thereby  form  a tense  of  the  verb. 
Could  absurdity  be  more  patent  than  in  the  asser- 
tion, not  only  that  might  and  should  are  a part 
of  the  verb  to  love,  but  that  several  words  convey- 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE.  313 

ing-  thoughts  so  widely  different  as  I might  love 
and  / should  love,  are  actually  the  smne  part  of  the 
same  verb?  A consideration  of  the  difference  in 
meaning  of  those  two  sentences,  of  their  radidal 
difference,  or  rather  their  absolute  opposition,  the 
one  expressing  possibility,  the  other  obligation,  and 
of  the  fact  that,  according  to  the  English  gram- 
marians, they  are  equally  parts  of  one  so-called 
tense,  the  imperfect  subjunctive,  which  in  Latin  is 
a tense,  aiiiarem,  will  make  it  clear  that  in  English 
we  have  not  merely  substituted  one  tense  form  for 
another.  We  have  done  away  with  the  tense  ; we 
have  done  away  with  all  tenses,  except  the  present, 
or  indefinite,  and  the  past.  We  have  found  that 
those  tenses  are  all  that  we  need ; that  with  the 
forms  significant  of  present  and  of  past  action,  or 
being,  or  suffering,  we  can  express  ourselves  in  con- 
formity to  all  the  conditions  of  time,  past,  present, 
and  future. 

As  we  have  dealt  with  tenses,  so  have  we  with 
voices.  The  English  verb  has  but  one  voice  — the 
active.  And  not  only  has  it  no  passive  voice,  but 
there  is  in  the  language  no  semblance  of  a passive 
voice.  The  Greek,  who  must  have  three  numbers 
to  his  nouns,  one  for  an  individual,  one,  the  dual, 
for  two,  and  a third  for  more  than  two,  was  also 
not  content  without  three  voices — the  active,  the 
passive,  and  one  which  was  in  sense  between  those 
two,  which  has  been  called  the  middle  voice,  but 
might  better  have  been  called  the  reflective  voice. 
Thus  we  say  I wash,  I am  washed,  I washed  my- 
self; the  Greek,  expressing  the  same  facts  that 
are  expressed  by  these  English  phrases,  said  in 


314 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


three  words,  Xovoj  (lotio),  lovo^av  {loiioniai)  ^ iXovaafir^v 
(^elousafueen) , Now,  the  English  grammarians  tell 
their  hapless  pupils  that  to  he  washed  is  the  passive 
voice  of  the  verb  to  wash.  It  is  no  such  thing- 
If  I am  washed  is  the  passive  voice  of  I wash^ 
equally  is  I wash  myself  its  middle  voice.  But 
no  English  grammarian  known  to  me,  or  that  I 
ever  heard  of,  has  set  forth  such  forms  of  speech 
as  I washed  myself  as  a middle  voice.  It  is  a 
sentence,  as  much  so  as  / washed  John  ; and  if 
mysef  is  no  part  of  the  verb  to  wash^  no  more  is 
ain  ; and  I am  washed  is  no  part  of  any  verb,  but 
a complete  sentence,  with  a subject  and  a predicate 
consisting  of  a verb  and  a participial  adjective. 
The  reason  why,  although  lam  washed  is  set  down 
by  the  English  grammarians  as  a part  of  the  verb 
to  wash,  I wash  mysef  is  not,  plainly  is  that  the 
Latin  language,  upon  which  our  English  gramma- 
rians have  formed  their  system,  and  to  which  their 
rules  have  been  as  much  as  possible  assimilated, 
has  a passive,  but  no  middle  voice.  Had  there 
been  a middle  voice  in  the  Latin,  there  would  have 
been  one  in  the  English  Grammars,  and  we  should 
have  been  told  that  one  part  of  the  verb  to  wash 
was  I shall  have  washed  7nysef,  although  we  could 
separate  this  tense  thus  : I probably  shall  by  ten 
D^clock  have  nearly  washed  or  bathed  mysef 

We  have  done  away  with  the  passive  voice  in  all 
its  moods  and  tenses ; and  we  have  no  passive  form 
of  the  verb  whatever,  not  even  a passive  participle. 
We  express  the  fact  of  passivity,  or  the  recipience 
of  any  action,  by  some  verb,  and  the  perfect  partici- 
ple of  the  verb  expressing  that  action ; and  this 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE.  315 

perfect  participle  we  apply  to  ourselves  or  to  others 
as  a qiialijicatLon,  In  technical  language  we  make 
it  a participal  adjective,  that  is,  a word  which  quali- 
fies a noun  by  representing  it  as  affected  or  modified 
by  some  action.  Thus  we  say,  a good  man,  or, 
a loved  man  ; and  in  these  phrases  both  good  and 
loved  are  adjectives  qualifying  man.  To  he  loved 
is  no  more  a verb  than  to  be  good.  According 
to  the  English  grammarians,  we  can  conjugate  the 
former,  in  all  the  moods  and  tenses  of  their  so- 
called  passive  voice.  But  so  we  can  the  latter. 

I am  good,  We  are  good, 

Thou  art  good,  Ye  or  you  are  good, 

He  is  good,  They  are  good. 

This  is  conjugation  as  much  as  I am  loved,  Thou, 
art  loved,  and  so  forth,  is  ; and  it  can  be  carried 
out,  of  course,  to  I shall  have  been,  or  I might, 
could,  would,  or  should  have  been  — either  good 
or  loved,  it  makes  no  difference  which.  But  that 
is  not  conjugation  in  either  case ; it  is  the  mere 
forming  of  sentences.  When  a Greek  boy  wished 
to  express  his  conviction  that  at  a certain  time 
future,  if  he  had  done  what  was  wrong,  or  had  not 
done  what  was  right,  certain  unpleasant  conse- 
quences would  have  followed,  he  said  in  one  word, 
TeTtupofmi  (tetiifsomai) , which  is  a tense  of  the  verb 
ivJini)  (^tnpto).  But  the  English  boy  uses  instead  of 
this  one  word  a sentence  made  up  of  a pronoun, 
two  verbs,  and  two  participles : he  sa3^s,  I shall 
have  been  beaten.  Of  the  verbs,  the  first,  shall, 
expresses  a present  sense  of  future  certainty, 
obligation,  or  inevitableness.  I'hus  Dr.  Johnson 
says,  / shall  love  is  equivalent  to  "it  will  be  so  that 


3i6 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


I must  love.”  The  second  verb,  have^  expresses 
possession.  He  says,  I shall  have  — what?  Some- 
thing. 

r something. 

I shall  have  ^ a beating. 

been  beaten. 

Have  cannot  have  one  meaning  in  two  of  these 
instances,  and  another  in  the  third.  Of  the  two 
perfect  or  definite  participles,  the  first,  heen^  ex- 
presses past  existence.  He  says,  I shall  have 
been  — what?  Something,  or  in  some  condition. 

r a bad  boj’. 

I shall  have  been  J deficient  in  mj  lesson, 
t beaten. 

By  what  process  can,  or  in  consequence  of  what 
necessity  does,  hce^t  have  one  meaning  in  two 
of  these  instances,  and  another  in  the  third?  But 
by  the  union  of  the  verb  of  existence  with  the  per- 
fect or  definite  participle  of  an  active  verb,  the 
English  language  can  and  does  express  the  recipi- 
ence of  action,  i.  e.^  existence  under  action.  There- 
fore the  perfect  participle  of  the  verb  of  existence 
united  to  that  of  an  active  verb  expresses  the 
perfected  recipience  of  action.  But,  according  to 
English  idiom,  we  cannot  use  been  without  putting 
the  idea  of  possession  between  it  and  the  subject. 
To  express  a completed  existence,  we  say  not,  I 
hecn^  but  / have  been.  Therefore  our  English 
boy,  when  he  says,  I shall  have  been  beaten,  says 
in  other  words.  It  will  be  so  that  I must  possess 
the  perfected  recipience  of  the  action  of  beating. 
Truly,  a long  and  lumbering  equivalent  of  his 
phrase ; but  so  are,  and  so  must  be,  all  explana- 


THE  GRAIMMARLESS  TONGUE. 


317 


tions  and  paraphrases  of  idiomatic  or  figurative 
forms  of  speech.  None  the  less,  however,  is  / 
shall  have  been  beaten  a sentence ; and  this  sen- 
tence, thus  made  up  of  a pronoun,  with  two  v^rbs 
and  two  participles  which  have  no  etymological 
relations,  English  grammarians  call  a tense,  the 
future  perfect  tense  of  the  passive  voice  of  the  verb 
to  beat ! Could  there  be  better  proof  that  the  Eng- 
lish verb  has  neither  future  tense  nor  passive  voice  ? * 
The  simplification  of  our  language,  which  has 
left  the  English  verb  only  one  voice  and  but  two 
tenses,  has  given  only  one  case  to  the  English 
noun,  the  possessive,  or  two  if  we  reckon  the 
nominative,  which,  strictly  speaking,  is  not  a case. 
The  English  noun  has  no  objective  case.  English 
grammarians  tell  us  that  it  has,  and  that  this  case 
is  governed,  and  agrees,  and  is  put  in  apposition, 
and  what  not.  But  the  truth  is,  that  the  English 
language,  although  it  expresses  clearly  the  objec- 
tive relation,  does  it  without  case,  and  merely  by 
position,  arrangement  in  logical  order.  One  of  the 
rules  of  the  English  grammarians  is  that,  " Active 
verbs  govern  the  objective  case,”  or,  according  to 
another  form.,  ” A noun  or  pronoun  used  as  the 
object  of  a transitive  verb  or  its  participles  must  be 
in  the  objective  case  ; as,  William  defeated  Har- 
old.” Here,  therefore,  we  are  told  Harold  is  in 
*'  the  objective  case.”  How,  then,  is  it  with  this 
sentence  ? — Ilarold  defeated  William.  No  change 

* I need  not  stop  to  say  to  the  candid  scholar  that  the  Latin,  like  the  Englisli,  is 
without  a tense  corresponding  to  the  Greek  third  future  passive,  and  also  without  some 
other  formal  tenses  in  the  passive  voice.  But  that  is  not  to  my  present  purpose.  Here 
Latin  and  Greek  concern  me  only  when  they  can  be  used  by  way  of  illustration.  As 
to  some  obiections  which  have  been  made  to  the  theory  of  our  verb  formation  imper- 
fectly  set  forth  above,  see  the  Note  at  the  end  of  this  chapter. 


3i8  words  and  their  uses. 

has  been  made  in  the  word  Harold;  it  is  in  the 
same  case  in  both  sentences.  It  has  simply 
changed  its  position,  and  so  its  relation.  In  the 
former  sentence,  Harold  is  the  object,  and  William 
the  subject,  of  the  action ; in  the  latter,  Harold 
is  the  subject,  and  William  the  object.  But  what 
in  language  could  be  more  absurd  or  more  confus- 
ing to  a learner  than  to  say  that  a mere  change  in 
the  place  of  a word  makes  a change  in  its  case  ? 
And  so,  as  to  the  rule,  ”A  noun  or  pronoun 
used  to  explain  or  identify  another  noun  is  put  by 
apposition  in  the  same  case ; as,  William,  the  Nor- 
man duke,  defeated  Harold,  the  Saxon  king.” 
Here  we  are  told  that  duke  is  in  the  nominative 
case,  because  it  is  in  apposition  with  William^  and 
that  king" is  in  the  objective  case,  it  being  in  apposi- 
tion with  Harold.  But  let  the  words  be  merely 
shifted,  without  any  inflection,  and  let  us  read, 
Harold,  the  Saxon  king,  defeated  William,  the  Nor- 
man duke;  which  is  English,  and  might  have  been 
truth.  In  what  case  here  are  king  and  duke  7 
Clearly  they  are  in  no'  case  in  either  example. 
They  are  simply  subject  and  object,  or  object  and 
subject,  according  to  their  relative  positions. 

We  are  told  by  one  of  the  latest  English  gram- 
marians, in  his  etymology  of  pronouns,  that,  "To 
pronouns,  like  nouns ^ belong  person,  number, 
gender,  and  case.”  This  is  a notably  incorrect 
assertion.  Upon  two  of  these  points,  nouns  and 
pronouns  are  remarkably  unlike ; upon  one  other 
they  are  correctly  said  to  be  alike ; upon  the 
fourth,  the  assertion  is  untrue  as  to  both. 

Pronouns  and  nouns  have  number ; pronouns 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE. 


319 


have  person,  nouns  have  not;  pronouns  have 
two  cases  — the  possessive  and  the  objective,  nouns 
but  one  — the  possessive.  The  rules  given  in 
English  Grammars  for  the  syntax  of  nouns,  apply, 
with  a single  exception,  to  pronouns  only,  and 
are  founded  chiefly  upon  the  persons  and  cases  of 
the  latter  — the  forms  /,  my,  me,  We,  our,  us. 
Thou,  thy,  thee.  You,  your.  He,  his,  him.  She, 
hers,  her.  It,  its.  They,  their,  thein,  to  which  there 
are  no  corresponding  forms  in  nouns,  except  the 
possessive  in  es,  which  has  been  contracted  to  ’5,  as 
if  we  were  feeling  our  way  towards  its  entire 
abolition.  Disappear  it  surely  will,  if  we  find  that  we 
can  do  without  it,  and  that,  for  instance,  "John  coat 
is  just  as  precise  and  apprehensible  as  yohu^s  coat. 
One  of  the  pronoun  cases  is  visibly  disappearing  — 
the  objective  case  whom.  Even  in  the  fastidious 
"Saturday  Review  ” we  sometimes  find  who  as  the 
object  of  a verb.  Our  pronouns,  however,  are  still 
inflected,  and  have  cases;  and  of  pronouns,  active 
verbs  do  govern,  or  rather  require,  the  objective 
case.  To  our  few  pronouns,  then,  may  be  applied 
all  those  rules  of  construction  which  rest  upon  case- 
form,  which,  borrowed  from  the  Latin  language 
and  thrust  upon  the  student  of  English,  are  an- 
nounced in  our  Grammars  as  the  laws  for  the 
syntax  of  the  vast  multitude  of  nouns. 

Thus  far,  as  to  the  positive  likeness  and  unlike- 
ness of  nouns  and  pronouns.  They  have  also  a 
negative  likeness,  as  to  which  they  are  misrepre- 
sented in  all  English  Grammars,  as  in  the  one 
above  cited.  Both  nouns  and  pronouns  are  without 
gender.  There  is  no  gender  in  the  English  Ian- 


320 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


guage.  Distinctions  of  sex  are  expressed  by  Eng- 
lish folk ; but  this  fact  does  not  imply  the  existence 
of  gender  in  the  English  language.  Sex  is  gen- 
erally, although  not  always,  expressed  by  gender; 
but  distinction  of  gender  rarely  implies  distinction 
of  sex.  There  are  thousands  of  words  in  Greek, 
in  Latin,  and  in  French,  which  are  masculine  or 
feminine,  and  which  are  the  names  of  things  and  of 
thoughts  that  can  have  no  sex.  The  Latin  noun 
■penna^  a pen,  is  feminine;  and  so  is  the  French 
table^  a table.  These  words  have  gender,  although 
the  things  they  signify  have  no  sex.  The  corre- 
sponding English  nouns  are  said  in  English  Gram- 
mar to  be  of  "the  neuter  gender.”  But  they  are 
of  no  gender  at  all. 

Gender  in  language  belongs,  not  to  things,  but  to 
words.  It  is  one  of  the  most  barbarous  and  foolish 
notions  with  which  the  mind  of  man  was  ever  vexed. 
One  or  two  examples  shall  make  this  plain.  Bean  is 
the  French  adjective  expressing  masculine  beauty; 
its  feminine  counterpart  is  belle  ; so  that  a fine  man 
has  come  to  be  called  a beaii^  and  a beautiful  wo- 
man a belle.  But,  notwithstanding  this,  women,  as 
the  fair  sex,  are  called  in  French  le  beau  sexe  — the 
reason  being  that  in  French,  sex,  the  word  sexe.^  is 
masculine ! All  languages  affiicted  with  gender 
are  covered  with  such  irritating  absurdity  ; so  that 
this  distinction  of  words  is  the  bane  and  the  torment 
of  learners,  whether  to  the  manner  born  or  not. 
For  instance,  in  French,  one  is  in  constant  dread 
lest  one  should  commit  such  blunders  as  to  speak 
of  masculine  breeches  — the  name  of  that  garment 
in  France  being,  with  fine  satire,  feminine.  Ana 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE. 


321 


yet,  with  all  this  complicated  provision  of  gender  — 
say  rather  by  reason  of  it  — these  languages  are 
sometimes  unable  to  distinguish  sex.  A case  in 
point  is  this  passage  from  " Gil  Bias  : ” — 

“ Je  fis  la  lecture  de  mon  ouvrage,  que  sa  majeste  n’entendit 
pas  sans  plaisir.  Elle  temoigna  qu’elle  etait  contente  de  moi.”  — 
Book  VIII.  Chap.  5. 

This  passage  tells  us  that  Gil  Bias  read  his  work 
to  a monarch,  who  was  pleased  and  who  expressed 
satisfaction.  But  although  every  word  in  the  two 
sentences,  except  the  participles  and  the  verbs,  has 
gender,  it  is  impossible  to  learn  from  this  passage 
whether  the  monarch  was  male  or  female ; as  im- 
possible as  it  is  to  do  so  from  my  paraphrase,  which 
is  purposely  made  without  distinction  of  sex.  The 
latter  of  the  two  sentences  is  bewildering  to  the 
common  sense  of  an  English  reader  who  knows 
the  context.  It  is.  She  showed  that  she  was  satis- 
fied with  me.  Now,  the  she  was  a man  — King 
Philip  IV.  of  Spain.  But  in  defiance  of  sex,  the 
feminine  pronoun  is  used  because  majesty,  not  the 
quality  or  the  condition,  but  the  word  majeste^  is 
feminine  ! Here  sex  is  not  expressed  by  gender ; 
and  the  lack  of  necessary  connection  between  sex 
and  gender  is  manifest. 

In  English  we  express  only  sex ; that  is,  we 
merely  have  different  words  to  express  the  male 
and  the  female  of  living  things.  The  human  male 
we  call  man,  the  human  female,  woman ; so  we 
say  boy  and  girl,  father  and  mother,  brother  and 
sister,  uncle  and  aunt,  bull  and  cow,  horse  and 
mare,  bullock  and  heifer,  buck  and  doe,  cock  and 
hen,  and  so  forth.  But  even  in  cases  like  these, 
21 


322 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


woniaii^  for  instance,  is  not  the  feminine  form  of  the 
word  man^  or  girl  of  boy^  or  doe  of  biick^  or  Jmt  of 
cock,  (In  Anglo-Saxon  wer=m2in  is  masculine,  but 
wif=  woman  is  of  neuter  gender !)  And  although  in 
such  instances  as  actor ^ actress^  hunter^  huntress,  tiger 
tigress,  the  name  of  the  female  is  a feminine  form 
of  the  name  of  the  male,  this  has  no  effect  upon  the 
construction  of  the  sentence ; the  distinction  made 
is  still  one  purely  of  sex,  and  not  of  gender.  Yet 
further  : in  pronouns,  although  they  represent  nouns 
belonging  to  the  two  sexes,  there  is  no  distinction 
of  gender  whatever;  and,  what  is  the  more  re- 
markable, considering  the  ado  grammarians  make 
about  gender,  none  even  oi  sex,  except  in  one  num- 
ber of  one  person.  /,  thou,  wc,  you,  they,  who, 
and  all  the  rest,  except  he,  she,  and  it,  refer  to  mas- 
culine and  feminine  persons  alike.  In  the  pronoun 
of  the  third  person  singular  we  have  a relic  of  our 
forefathers’  inflected  tongue.  The  Anglo-Saxon 
pronoun  was  masculine  he,  feminine  he6,  neuter  hit, 
which  are  respectively  represented  by  our  he,  she, 
it.  But  here,  again,  the  distinction  is  of  sex,  not 
of  gender,  and  would  be  so  even  if  it  were  carried 
through  all  the  persons.  lie,  she,  and  are  merely 
words  that  stand  for  male,  female,  and  sexless 
things,  and  tlieir  forms  are  not  affected  by  any 
" governing  ” or  requiring  power  of  the  otlier  words 
in  the  sentences  in  which  they  appear.  There  is, 
then,  no  gender  in  the  English  language,  but  only 
distinction  of  sex ; that  is,  merely,  we  do  not  call  a 
woman  a man,  a hen  a cock,  or  a heifer  a bullock. 
This  being  true,  it  is  impossible  that  there  can  be 
agreement  in  gender  of  nouns  or  of  pronouns. 

The  one  case  of  English  nouns,  the  possessive, 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE. 


323 


is  equally  without  power  in  the  sentence,  upon  the 
structure  of  which  it  has  no  effect  whatever.  It 
merely  expresses  possession,  and  its  power,  confined 
to  that  expression,  " governs  ” nothing,  requires 
nothing,  " agrees  ” with  nothing.  The  reason  of 
which  is,  that  English  adjectives  and  participles  are 
without  case,  as  they  are  without  number  and  with- 
out gender.  In  Latin  every  word  qualifying  a 
noun  in  the  genitive  or  possessive  case,  or  closely 
related  to  it,  must  be  also  in  that  case.  Thus  we 
see  upon  the  title-pages  of  the  classics,  sentences 
crammed  with  genitives  like  the  following : Albii 
Tibulli,  Equitis  Romani  Elegiarum  aliorumque  Car- 
minum,  Libri  IV.  ad  optimos  codices  emendati, 
cura  Reverendissimi,  Doctissimi,  Sanctissimi  Caroli 
Bensonis ; that  is.  Four  books  of  the  Elegies  and 
other  poems  of  Albus  Tibullus,  a Roman  knight, 
restored  according  to  the  best  manuscripts,  by  the 
care  of  the  most  reverend,  learned,  and  holy  Carl 
Benson.  Here,  in  Latin,  because  Tibullus  is  in 
the  genitive  or  possessive  case,  the  words  meaning 
Roman  and  knight  must  also  be  in  that  case ; so 
with  the  word  meaning  other,  because  that  mean- 
ing poems  is  in  the  genitive ; and  of  course  so  with 
those  meaning  most  reverend,  most  learned,  and 
most  holy,  that  these  may  agree  with  Carl  Benson. 
This  is  syntax  or  grammatical  construction.  We  Eng- 
lish folk  have  burst  all  those  bonds  of  speech  forever. 

It  must  have  been  with  some  reference  to  this 
topic  that  Lindley  Murray  has  vexed  the  souls  of 
generations  by  proclaiming  as  the  tenth  law  of 
English  grammar,  that  " One  substantive  governs 
another  signifying  a different  thing  in  the  possessive 
case.”  Truly  an  awful  and  a mysteiious  utterance. 


324  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

It  is  about  substantives  and  the  possessive  case  ; but 
what  about  them?  I can  believe  that  the  Apoca- 
lypse is  to  be  understood  — hereafter;  I will  under 
take  to  parse  "Sordello”  — for  a consideration  ; but 
I admit  that  before  the  Yankee  Quaker’s  tenth  law 
I sit  dumbfounded.  I cannot  begin,  or  hope  to 
begin,  to  understand  it,  or  believe  that  it  has  been, 
is,  or  will  be  understood  by  any  man. 

The  assertion  that  it  is  a law  of  the  English  lan- 
guage that  conjunctions  connect  the  same  moods 
and  tenses  of  verbs,  may  be  confuted  by  a single 
example  to  the  contraiy,  such  as,  " I desire,  and 
have  pursued  virtue,  and  should  have  been  re- 
warded, if  men  were  just.”  Tliat  sentence  is  good 
English  ; and  yet  in  it  the  conjunction  and  connects 
what  are,  according  to  Murray  and  the  other  Eng- 
lish grammarians,  two  moods  and  three  tenses. 

But  I must  bring  this  chapter  to  an  end ; and  I 
may  well  do  so,  having  shown  my  readers  that 
government,  and  agreement,  and  apposition,  and 
gender  have  no  place  in  the  construction  of  the 
English  sentence,  that  tense  is  confined  to  the 
necessary  distinction  between  what  is  passing,  or 
may  pass,  and  what  has  passed,  and  case,  to  the 
simple  expression  of  possession.  This  being  the 
condition  of  the  English  language,  grammar,  in 
the  usual  sense  of  the  word,  — i,  ^.,  syntax  accord- 
ing to  etymology,  — is  impossible  ; for  inflected 
forms  and  the  consequent  relations  of  words  are  the 
conditions,  sine  qna  non^  of  grammar.  In  speaking 
or  writing  English,  we  have  only  to  choose  the  right 
words  and  put  them  into  the  right  places,  respecting 
no  laws  but  those  of  reason,  conforming  to  no  order 
but  that  which  we  call  " logical.” 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE. 


32^ 


NOTE. 


The  views  set  forth  in  “ The  Grammarless  Tongue  ” 
as  to  the  English  verb  have  met  with  an  opposition  which 
I looked  for,  and  which,  indeed,  has  been  less  general 
and  violent  than  I expected  it  would  be  ; for  the  reason, 
I am  inclined  to  think,  that  the  article  in  question  had 
the  good  fortune  to  express  the  opinions  to  which  many 
silent  and  unprofessional  thinkers  on  language  — among 
whom  I was  until  I began  these  articles — had  been  led, 
independently  of  authority,  and  by  the  mere  force  of  right 
reason. 

My  assertion,  that  the  English  verb  has  but  two  tenses, 
that  it  generally  does  not  agree  with  the  nominative  in  num- 
ber and  person,  and  the  like,  bring  iqDon  me  the  charge, 
not  of  error,  but  of  blundering,  misstatement,  ignorance, 
and  impertinent  self-assertion.  (I  take  some  pleasure  in 
the  recapitulation.)  As  to  the  general  non-agreement 
of  the  English  verb  with  its  nominative  case,  it  is  too 
manifest  to  need  a word  of  argument.  And  as  to  whether 
a man  in  taking  this  position  may  justly  be  held  guilty 
of  ignorant  and  impertinent  self-assertion,  I cite  the  fol- 
lowing passage  fi'om  Sir  John  Stoddart’s  “ Universal 
Grammar.’’ 

“The  expression  of  Number  is  another  accidental  propert}?  of 
the  verb,  and  belongs  to  it  only  in  so  far  as  the  verb  may  be  com- 
bined with  the  expression  of  person.  . . . The  verb  is  equally 
said  to  be  in  the  singular  or  plural  whether  it  has  or  has  not 
distinct  terminations  appropriated  to  those  different  numbers; 
we  call  I love  singular,  and  we  love  pf.ural ; but  it  is  manite  t 
that  in  all  such  instances  the  expressitf  n of  number  exists  on^y 
in  the  pronoun”  — p.  155. 

Now,  it  is  the  calling  of  things  what  they  are  not,  m 
order  that  the  terminology  of  English  Grammar  may 


326 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


correspond  to  that  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages, 
which  I think  pernicious. 

Upon  some  of  the  points  in  question,  I cite  the  follow- 
ing passages  from  Crombie’s  “ Etymology  and  Syntax  of 
the  English  Language.”  Dr.  Crombie,  an  Oxford  Doctor 
of  Laws,  and  a Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society,  is  one  of 
the  profoundest,  and  closest,  and  least  pedantic  thinkers 
that  have  written  on  our  subject ; and  his  work  (from 
the  third  and  last  edition  of  which  — London,  1S30 — I 
quote),  was  made  a text-book  for  the  class  of  English 
literature  in  the  London  University.  Dr.  Crombie  is 
examining  the  argument  of  an  English  grammarian, 
which  is  to  this  eflect.  If  that  only  is  a tense  which  in 
one  inflected  word  expresses  an  affirmation  with  time, 
we  should  in  English  have  but  two  tenses,  tlie  present 
and  past  in  the  active  verb,  and  in  the  passive  no  tenses 
at  all,  — the  very  position  that  I have  taken.  “ But,”  the 
writer.  Dr.  Beattie,  adds,  “ this  is  a needless  nicety,  and,  if 
adopted,  would  introduce  confusion  into  the  grammatical 
art.  If  a7naveram  be  a tense,  why  should  not  amatus 
J'ziera7n?  If  I heaz'd  be  a tense,  I did  Jiear^  I have 
hea7'd^  and  I shall  hear  must  be  equally  entitled  to  that 
appellation.”  This  argument  Crombie  thus  sets  aside  : — 

“ IIow  simplicity  can  introduce  confusion  I am  unable  to  com- 
prehend, unless  we  are  to  aflirm  that  the  introduction  of  Greek 
and  Latin  names,  to  express  ii07ientities  in  our  language,  is 
necessary  to  illustrate  the  grammar  and  simplify  the  study  of 
the  language  to  the  English  scholar.  . . . Nay,  further,  if  it  be 
a needless  nicety  to  admit  those  only  as  tenses  which  are  formed 
by  inflection,  is  it  not  equally  a needless  nicety  to  admit  those 
cases  only  which  are  formed  by  varying  the  terminaticiu And 
if  confusion  be  introduced  by  denjdng  I had  heard  to  be  a tense, 
why  docs  not  the  learned  author  simplify  the  doctrine  of  English 
nouns  by  giving  them  six  cases  — a king,  of  a king,  to  or  for  a 
king,  a king,  O king,  -with,  frotn,  in,  or  by  a king ^ This,  surely, 
would  be  to  perplex,  not  to  simplify.  In  short,  the  inconsistency 
of  those  grammarians  who  deny  that  to  be  a case  which  is  not 
formed  by  inflection,  yet  would  load  us  with  moods  and  tenses 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE. 


327 


not  formed  by  change  of  termination,  is  so  palpable  as  to  require 
neither  illustration  nor  argument  to  oppose  it.  . . . Why  do  not 
these  gentlemen  favor  us  with  a dual  number,  with  a middle 
voice,  and  with  an  optative  mood?  Nay,  as  they  are  so  fond' of 
tenses  as  to  lament  that  we  rob  them  of  all  but  two,  why  do  they 
not  enrich  us  with  ^ first  and  second  aorist  and  a paulo  post  fu- 
ture?" (pp,  1 18,  119.)  “Whether  aniatus  fuerajn  be  or  be  not 
a tense  is  the  very  point  in  question;  and  so  far  am  I from  ad- 
mitting the  affirmative  as  unquestionable,  that  I contend  it  has 
no  more  claim  to  the  designation  of  these  than  eaoixai  Ttrtpwi — no 
more  claim  than  ama7idum  est  7111/11,  ainari  oportet,  or  ainandus 
sum  have  to  be  called  moods.  Here  I must  request  the  reader  to 
bear  in  mind  che  necessary  distinction  between  the  grammar  of 
a language  and  its  capacity  of  expression.  . . . Why  not  give, 
as  English  cases,  to  a king,  of  a king,  ■with  a king,  etc.?  The 
mode  is  certainly  applicable,  whatever  may  be  the  consequences  of 
that  application.  A case  surely  is  as  easily  formed  by  a noun  and 
a preposition  as  a tense  by  a participle  and  an  auxiliary.”  (p.  121.) 
“ What  should  we  think  of  that  person’s  discernment  who  should 
contend  that  the  Latins  had  an  optative  mood  because  utinain 
legcres  signifies,  I wish  you  would  read?  It  is  equally  absurd  to 
say  that  we  have  an  imperfect,  preterpluperfect,  or  future  tense; 
or  that  we  have  all  the  Greek  varieties  of  mood,  and  two  voices, 
because  by  the  aid  of  auxiliarj'  words  and  definitive  terms  we 
contrive  to  express  these  accidents,  times,  or  states  of  being.  I 
consider,  therefore,  that  ive  have  no  more  cases,  moods.,  tenses,  or 
voices  in  our  language — as  far  as  its  grammar,  not  its  capacity 
of  expression,  is  concerned  — than  we  have  variety  of  termina- 
tion to  denote  these  difterent  accessory  ideas.”  — p.  127,  128. 

But  upon  this  point  I cite  also  the  following  passage 
from  a yet  higher  authority,  — Bosworth,  — in  the  front 
rank  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  English  scholars  of  the 
world,  who  speaks  as  follows  upon  the  subject,  at  p.  1S9 
of  the  Introduction  to  his  Anglo-Saxon  Dictionary.  The 
passage,  it  will  be  seen,  touches  what  I have  said,  and 
iij>on  voices  and  cases  as  well  as  upon  tenses. 

“ What  is  generally  termed  the  passive  voice  has  no  existence 
!t  Anglo-Saxon,  any  more  than  in  modern  Er  glish.  The  Anglo- 
Saxons  wrote,  he  is  lifod,  he  is  loved.  Here  is  is  the  indicative 
indefinite  of  the  neuter  verb  wesan,  and  lufod,  loved,  is  the  past 
participle  of  the  verb  lufian,  to  love.  Ir  parsing,  every  word 


328 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Bhould  be  considered  a distinct  part  of  speech.  To  a king  is  not 
called  a dative  case  in  English,  as  regi\n  Latin,  because  the  Eng- 
lish phrase  is  not  formed  bj  inflection,  but  by  the  auxiliary  words 
to  a.  If  auxiliaries  do  not  form  cases  in  English  nouns,  why 
should  they  be  alloAved  to  form  various  tenses  and  a passive 
voice  either  in  the  English,  or  in  its  parent,^the  Saxon.?  Thus, 
Ic  maeg  beon  liifod,  I may  be  loved,  instead  of  being  called  the 
potential  mood  passive,  maeg  is  more  rationally  considered  a 
verb  in  the  indicative  mood,  indefinite  tense,  first  singular,  beon 
the  neuter  verb  in  the  infinitive  mood  after  the  verb  maeg;  lufod 
is  the  perfect  participle  of  the  verb  lnjia?i.'‘‘‘ 

This  view  is  exactly  the  same,  it  will  be  seen,  as  that 
which  is  taken  of  the  subject  by  Crombie  ; and,  indeed, 
it  is  hard  for  me  to  understand  how  any  man  of  common 
sense,  who  thinks  for  himself,  can  take  any  other.  Bos- 
worth  here  supports  the  main  position  taken  in  “ The 
Grammarless  Tongue,”  which  is  in  effect,  to  use  Bos- 
worth’s  words,  that  in  analyzing  the  English  sentence  “ ev^ 
ery  word  should  be  considered  a distinct  part  of  speech  ; ” 
every  word,  auxiliary  verbs  as  well  as  auxiliary  preposi- 
tions, as  he  regards  them  in  his  analysis  of  what  English 
grammarians  call  the  first  person  singular,  present  in- 
dicative, potential  mood,  joassive  voice  of  the  verb  to 
love  — I i72ay  be  loved.  That  is  the  point  of  this 
whole  question. 

Against  the  position  taken  in  the  foregoing  chapter 
as  to  the  so-called  tenses  which  are  formed  by  the  union 
of  a verb  and  a participle,  — that  the  verb  retains  its 
proper  meaning ; e.  g.^  that  in  I have  loved.,  have  ex- 
presses possession,  — a position  impregnable,  I think,  to 
argument,  — two  of  my  critics  have  directed  the  shafts  of 
feeble  ridicule.  One  says,  “ lie,  therefore,  who  has 
loved,  has,  in  his  possession,  an  abstract  coinj^leted  action, 
bearing  the  name  ‘ loved.’  Such  a person  may  well  be 
excused  for  inquiring  with  some  anxiety  what  he  shall 
do  with  it.”  Another  flouts  the  pretensions  of  a man 
who  dared  to  write  about  language,  and  yet  “ thought 
tliat  a particqole  could  be  the  object  to  a verb.” 


THE  GRA.MMARLESS  TONGUE. 


329 


Now,  ii.  the  first  place,  Bosworth’s  dictum  — say 
rather  his  primal  law  of  English  construction  — that,  in 
parsing,  every  word  should  be  regarded  as  a distinct 
part  of  speech,  covers  this  ground  entirely.  The  case 
of  a verb  followed  by  a j^articiple  is  no  more  than  any 
other  excluded  from  the  cperation  of  that  law,  wdiich, 
indeed,  as  we  have  seen,  Bosworth  himself  illustrates 
by  an  analysis  of  the  so-called  tense  I 7nay  be  loved. 
What  I have  written  upon  this  point  is  therefore  merely 
an  expression  and  particular  enforcement  of  a general 
law  recognized  by  the  facile  frinceps  of  British  Anglo- 
Saxon  scholars.  But  I am  not  left  without  a particular 
justification  of  my  view  of  the  relation  of  the  auxiliary 
verb  to  its  participle.  Dr.  Crombie,  explaining  the 
difference  between  the  tenses  which  some  grammarians 
have  called  the  preterite  definite,  I have  written,,  and 
the  preterite  indefinite,  I wrote,,  furnishes  me  with  the  fob 
lowing  opinion  in  point : — 

“When  an  action  is  done  in  a time  continuous  to  the  present 
instant,  we  employ  the  auxiliary  verb.  Thus,  on  finishing  a 
letter,  I say,  I have  written  my  letter,  i.  e.,  I possess  (now)  the 
finished  action  of  'writing  a letter.  Again,  when  an  action  is 
done  in  a space  of  time  which  the  mind  assumes  as  present,  or 
when  we  express  our  immediate of  things  done  in  that 
space,  we  use  the  auxiliary  verb.  ‘ I have  this  week  written  sev- 
eral letters,’  I have  now  the  perfection  of  writing  several  letters 
finished  this  week.  These  phraseologies,  as  the  author  last 
quoted  justly  observes,  are  harsh  to  the  ear,  and  appear  exceed- 
ngly  awkward;  but  a little  attention  will  suffice  to  show  that 
they  correctly  exhibit  the  ideas  implied  by  the  tense  which  we 
have  at  present  under  consideration.”  — Etymology,  etc.,  p.  166. 

Upon  the  same  subject,  one  of  my  critics  has  the  fol- 
lowing passage,  which  is  useful  in  enabling  me  to  illus- 
trate my  position : — 

“ All  participles  are  adjectives,  and  cannot,  without  being 
made  substantives  by  the  prefixing  of  the  article,  or  in  some 
similar  way,  be  used  as  objects  to  transitive  verbs.  We  can,  of 
course,  say,  He  posits  the  conditioned  1 but  we  cannot  say,  Hi 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


^30 

f^ositr  conditioned^  or,  He  possesses  conditioned.  In  the  third 
place,  suppose  we  admit  that  a participle  could  be  the  object  of 
a transitive  verb,  and  that  I possess  conditiojied  expressed  what 
we  mean  by  I have  conditioned ; is  there  not  one  respect  in  which 
/ have  conditioned  or  / haz^e  loved  differs  from  I have  money  f 
We  can  certainly  say  I have  loved  the  ocea?i ; but  can  we  also 
say  I have  ni07iey  the  ba?ik  P I have  hunted  the  fox  does  mean 
something;  I have  a hunt  the  fox  means  nothing.” 

Clearly  all  participles  are  adjectives  when  they  are 
predicated  of  the  subject,  or  used  to  qualify  a noun. 
That  is  so  obviously  true  that  it  hardly  needs  to  be 
asserted.  Thus,  in  I a7n  good  and  I a77i  loved.,  good  and 
loved  are  equally  adjectives,  as  in  a bad  77ia7t  and  a 
hated  777a7i.,  bad  and  hated  are  also  adjectives.  But  I 
am  not  so  sure  that  the  prefixing  of  an  article,  or  the  like, 
is  the  condition  and  sign  of  use  as  an  object  of  a trans- 
itive verb.  I am  overwhelmed  with  such  a tremendous 
illustration  of  the  use  of  participles,  as  He  posits  the 
co7tditioned.  It  takes  me  back,  however,  to  the  days 
when  Tappan  and  Henry  led  my  youthful  steps  through 
the  flowery  paths,  and  fed  my  downy  lips  with  the  sweet 
and  succulent  fruits  of  metapheezic.  Of  this  experience 
I retain  suflicient  memory  to  admit,  with  shame  and  con- 
fusion of  face,  tliatwecan  say.  He  posits  the  co7tditio7ied., 
and  that  we  cannot  say.  He  posits  co7iditio7ied.,  or  He 
possesses  co7iditio7ied.  But  when,  stepj^ing  down  from 
,lhe  sublime  of  the  conditioned,  I reflect  that  although  we 
may  say  of  Paddy,  He  bolts  the  p/'atie.,  we  may  not  say, 
He  bolts  pratie.,  or.  He  possesses  p7‘‘atie.,  and  yet  that  we 
may  say.  He  bolts  p7'aties.,  and  even.  He  likes  bolti7ig 
praties.,  I am  comforted.  I admit  that  although  we  may 
say,  1 have  loved  the  ocea7i.,  we  may  not  say,  1 have 
moTiey  the  ba7ik.,  unless  we  would  talk  nonsense.  But 
that  is  because  loved  the  ocea7t.,  which  in  one  case  is  the 
object  of  the  verb  have.,  is  sense,  and  77io7iey  the  ba7ik., 
which  is  its  object  in  the  other  case,  is  not  sense.  As  a 
phrase  or  sentence  may  Ijt  the  subject  of  a verb,  so  it 


THE  GRAMMARLESS  TONGUE.  33I 

jnay  be  its  obiect.  For  example,  in  the  sentence,  He 
likes  boltings  the  participle,  although  no  article  is  pre- 
fixed to  it,  is  the  object  of  the  transitive  verb  likes ; but 
in  the  more  complex,  fully-developed,  and  well-rounded 
sentence.  He  likes  bolting  -praties^  the  object  of  the  verb 
is  bolting  praties. 

I have  called  English  the  grammarless  tongue  ; but  it 
merits  that  distinction  only  because  it  excels  in  its  supe- 
riority to  inflections,  and  its  regard  for  the  logical  se- 
quence of  thought,  all  other  languages  of  civilized  Chris- 
tendom. Compared  with  Greek  and  Latin,  the  French, 
Italian,  and  Spanish  languages,  and  even  the  German, 
may  be  called  grammarless.  Indeed , the  tendency  to 
the  laying  aside  of  inflections  showed  itself  early  in  the 
Latin  tongue,  in  the  very  Augustan  period  of  which  we 
find  in  the  best  writers  the  germ  of  our  method  of  ex- 
pressing action  in  combination  with  the  idea  of  time,  by 
the  use  of  the  verbs  signifying  existence  and  possession, 
in  combination  with  participles.  Cicero,  instead  of  De 
Caesare  satis  dixi,  said,  “ De  Caesare  satis  dictum  habeo  ’’ 
— I have  said  enough  of  Caesar ; and  Caesar  himself 
wrote,  “ copias  quas  habebat  paratasP  instead  of  para- 
verat — the  forces  which  he  had  prepared.*  Now,  will 
any  one  pretend  that  when  Cicero  said  habeo  dictum  — 
I have  said,  he  used  the  word  habeo  without  the  idea  of 
possession,  and  yet  that  he  used  it  with  that  idea  when 
he  said  habeo  poiiium  — I have  an  apple  I think  no 
one  will  do  so  who  is  com.petent  to  write  on  language  at 
all ; and  should  there  be  such  a person,  I confess  at  once 
that  I cannot  argue  with  him.  We  do  not  approach 
each  other  near  enough  to  clash.  And  as  to  the  ques- 
tions whether  English  verbs  have  real  tenses,  and  what 
s the  force  of  “ auxiliary”  verbs  in  all  cases,  I shall  leave 
them  without  further  discussion,  merely  giving  my  readers 
an  exavnple  upon  which  to  ruminate.  If  I shall  have 


* These  examples  1 find  to  my  hand,  among  others  of  the  same  sort,  in  Bracoet’s 
Gramnuure  Historique  de  la  Langue  Fran<jaise.” 


332 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


followed  is  a tense,  the  future  perfect  tense  of  the  verb 
to  follow^  in  which  the  verb  shall  does  not  express  futu- 
rity, and  the  verb  have  does  not  express  possession,  what 
becomes  of  that  tense,  and  what  is  the  meaning  of  those 
v^erbs,  wlien,  instead  of  saying,  I shall  have  followed  him 
so  long  to-morrow,  we  say,  I shall  to-morrow  have  fol- 
lowed him  so  long,  or,  I shall  to-morrow  have  so  long 
followed  him,  or,  I shall  have  so  long  followed  him  to- 
morrow ? If  a tense  may  be  split  in  pieces  and  scattered 
about  in  this  way,  and  its  component  parts,  each  of  them 
a word  in  constant  and  independent  use,  may  retain  in 
their  divided  condition  the  same  modified  meaning  or 
lack  of  meaning  which  they  have  in  combination,  it 
would  seem  that  the  construction  of  English,  according 
to  the  grammarians,  is  so  absolved  from  the  laws  of  rea- 
son, which  hold  on  all  other  subjects,  that  any  discus- 
sion of  it  in  conformity  with  those  laws  must  be  en- 
tirely superfluous  and  from  the  purpose. 

A volume  like  this  is  not  the  place  for  controversy, 
even  were  1 inclined  thereto  ; but  I will  notice  one  or 
two  of  the  remarks  elicited  by  the  foregoing  chapter 
from  writers  who,  T am  sorry  to  say,  were  not  ^pretentious 
ignoramuses,  but  men  of  sense  and  some  philological 
acquirement,  because  these  examples  will  show  the  style 
and  temper  of  even  the  ablest  of  mv  opponents.  One 
of  them  sneered  at  the  views  set  forth  in  that  chapter, 
because,  among  other  things,  they  were  those  of  a man 
who  “ could  make  Tsivipofiai  a future  perfect,”  meaning,  I 
shall  have  been  beaten.  As  to  that  point,  I cite  the  fol- 
lowing passages  from  a grammarian  of  authority ; — 

“The  third  future,  or  paulo  post  future,  of  the  passive  in 
respect  to  signification  (§  139),  and  form  is  derived  from  the 
perfect  passive,  of  which  it  retains  the  augment,  substituting 
o-o/iat  for  the  termination  of  the  perfect  passive.  It  is  therefore 
only  necessary  to  take  the  ending  of  the  second  person  perfect 
passive  in  aat  (<pai,  ^at),  and  change  the  m into  oixai  — TiTV/inai  (rfru- 
Tcrl\j,onat.”  — J3tiitma7t,  § 99. 

“The  third,  or  paulo  post  future,  is  properly,  both  in  form 
Biid  in  signification,  compounded  from  the  perfect  and  future 


THE  GRAMAMRLESS  TONGUE. 


333 


ft  places  what  is  past  or  concluded  in  the  future;  e.  g.,  f,  iroXiTela 
rtAfwj  KfKoafitjdtTai  tav  i toiovtos  avTtfv  iTridKoirfj  <pbla^  — The  City  will  have 
been  perfectly  organized  if  such  a watchman  oversee  it;  i.  e.f 
disposita  erit^  not  disponetur."  — Ibidem^  § 139.  ' 

This  is  Greek,  as  I learned  it.  I do  not  pretend  to 
write  a new  Cratylus,  or  profess  to  be  able  to  do  so. 

Another  of  my  censors  is  focetiously  severe  upon  a 
man  who  ventures  to  write  on  language,  and  yet  himself 
uses  such  phrases  as  “ a young-eyed  cherubin,”  and 
“ poning  the  gutter.”  This  writer,  although  he  figured 
in  the  Philological  Convention  at  Poughkeepsie,  seems 
not  to  know  that  cherubm  came  into  our  language  from 
the  Italian  cherublno^  and  that  until  a very  late  period 
the  form  cherub  was  not  known.  And  as  to  the  par- 
ticular phrase  I used,  if  my  very  scornful  censor  will 
take  a poor  mariner’s  advice,  and  overhaul  his  little 
Shakespeare,  he  will  find,  in  a passage  famous  (among 
the  ignorant)  for  its  beauty,  the  following  lines  : — 

“ There’s  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  beholdest 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 

Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubins.” 

Alerchant  of  Venice^  V.  i. 

Now,  if  very  learned  and  scornful  professors  of  phi- 
lology will  not,  before  criticising  a poor  layman  like  me, 
and  before  figuring  at  philological  conventions,  make  them- 
selves acquainted  with  such  familiar  passages  of  poetry  as 
that,  why,  all  the  worse  for  me  — and  for  Shakespeare. 

As  to  “ poning  the  gutter,”  that  is  a city  boy’s  name  for 
a city  boy’s  amusement.  In  winter,  when  a hard  frost  has 
filled  the  gutters  with  ice,  boys  make  slides  on  them, 
and  as  they  dash  down  the  slide  and  run  up  again  to  take 
a start  from  the  head,  they  cry  out  one  to  another,  “ Pon 
(he  gutter.”  Therefore,  although  the  origin  of  the  first 
word  is  unknown  to  me,  I said  of  my  young-eyed  cher- 
ubin,  that  “ five  years  ago  he,  rustic,  was  milking  the 
cov/,  or  urban,  was  poning  the  gutter.” 

With  this  answer  I shall  leave  my  critics  in  charge  of 
m>  reputation,  and  their  own. 


334 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

IS  BEING  DONE. 

TO  a man  who  has  reached  what  Dante  calls 
the  middle  of  the  journey  of  our  life,  nothing  in 
the  outside  world  is  more  remarkahle  than  the  un- 
conscious freedom  with  which  people  ten  or  fifteen 
years  younger  than  himself  adopt  new  fashions  and 
fangles  of  dress,  of  manners,  and  of  speech,  except, 
perhaps,  their  persistence  in  these  novelties  after 
the  absurdity  thereof  has  been  fully  set  forth  and 
explained.  His  difficulty  is,  that  for  a long  time 
he  does  not  see  — does  not  unless  he  combines,  un- 
usually, quickness  of  penetration  and  readiness  of 
reflection  — that  what  seems  so  new  and  strange  to 
him  seems  to  younger  people  neither  strange  nor 
new.  The  things  are  new,  indeed,  to,  them,  but 
only  in  that  they  are  not  3^et  old  ; they  are  not  nov- 
elties that  disturb  their  peace  as  they  disturb  his. 
He  wonders  that  that  beautiful  girl  of  seventeen  goes 
about  in  public  unconcerned,  and  in  fact  almost 
unnoticed,  — that  is  the  strangest  feature  of  the 
case,  — in  such  amazing  apparel  as  would  tcn3'ears 
ago  have  made  her  mother  the  laughing-stock  of  the 
whole  town,  and  which  yet  she  wears  as  calml3'  as 
if  from  Eve’s  day  down  the  sex  had  known  no  other 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


335 


garments.  Why  should  she  not?  The  fashion  of 
to-day  is  all  that  she  knows  of  fashion,  and  she 
cares  to  know  no  more,  except  for  the  sake'  of 
curiosity.  All  the  rest  is  to  her  in  the  keeping  of 
history,  where  she  may,  perhaps,  in  an  idle  mo- 
ment, look  at  it,  and  find  it  food  for  wonder  or  for 
laughter.  In  it  there  is  nought  to  her  of  persona! 
concern. 

When  does  a fashion  cease  to  be  new  ? When 
does  it  become  old?  when  obsolete?  Before  these 
questions  can  be  answered,  w'e  must  know'^  the 
measure  of  time  used  by  him  who  asks  them. 
What  would  be  new  to  a 3'oung  elephant  of  thirty 
or  forty  years  would  be  old  to  an  aged  cony  of  nine 
or  ten;  wdiat  to  the  butterfly  of  a meadow  and  a 
summer  would  date  from  the  beginning  of  all  things, 
would  hardly  be  a memory  to  an  eagle  that  had 
soared  for  half  a century  above  half  a continent. 
What  is  new  to  one  man  may  be  old  to  men  only 
five  years  younger  than  he,  and  to  men  ten  3^ears 
3'ounger,  obsolete.  Few  truths  are  more  difficult 
of  apprehension  than  this,  apparentl3"  so  obvious 
Few  mental  faculties  are  rarer  than  that  which  gives 
to  a mature  man  the  prompt,  intuitive  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  there  are  human  beings  wdiose  opinions 
and  habits,  if  not  worthy  of  consideration,  must  yet 
he  considered,  to  wffiom  that  which  is  to  him  a part 
of  the  present  is  not  merely  unfamiliar,  but  shut  out 
among  the  things  of  the  past  as  completely  as  the 
siege  of  Tro3s  or  the  building  of  the  Pyramids. 
Five  thousand  years  ago,  five  hundred,  fifty,  five  — 
what  is  the  difference  as  to  that  which  is  beyond 
\he  grasp  of  consciousness,  out  of  the  record  of  ex 
perience? 


33^  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

This  elasticity  of  the  standard  by  which  the  new  is 
measured,  is  in  no  respect  more  worthy  of  consider- 
ation than  in  that  of  language.  Unless  a man  is  a 
monster  of  pedantry  and  priggishness, — and,  in- 
deed, not  then,  — the  words  and  the  forms  of  speech 
he  uses  are  not  made,  or  even  chosen,  by  himself. 
The  first  condition  of  language  — that  it  shall  be  a 
means  of  communication  between  men — forbids  the 
near  approach  to  a vocabulary  or  a construction 
which  is,  even  in  part,  the  work  or  the  choice  of  any 
one  man.  As  we  get  our  food  and  our  breath  from 
the  earth  and  the  air  around  us,  so  we  get  our  lan- 
guage from  our  neighbors  — not  the  language  in 
which  we  work  out  and  discuss  questions  in  science, 
in  art,  or  in  letters,  but  that  which  serves  the  needs 
of  our  daily  life.  A little  comes  to  us  from  abroad  ; 
but  this  is  mere  spicery,  much  of  which  is  neither 
wholesome  nor  appetizing. 

A fastidious  precisian  in  language  might  cany 
his  nicety  so  far  as  to  leave  himself  almost  speech- 
less. A man  must  speak  the  language  of  his  peo- 
ple and  his  time.  As  to  the  first,  there  can  be  no 
doubt;  but  what  is  his  time?  Generally, 'to-day. 
If  A hears  B use  a word  or  a phrase  to-day  which, 
although  it  is  entirely  new  to  him,  has  a meaning 
that  he  readily  apprehends,  and  tliat  saves  trouble, 
and  ” will  do,”  he  will  use  it  himself,  if  he  has  need, 
to-morrow.  And  so  it  will  go  on  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  until  within  a year  it  may  pervade  a neigh- 
borhood ; and  in  these  days  of  railways  and  news- 
papers, a year  or  two  may  spread  it  over  a whole 
country.  The  child  that  was  in  the  cradle  when 
die  new  word  first  was  spoken,  on  going  to  school 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


337 


finds  it  a part  of  the  common  speech.  For  that 
child  it  is  neither  new  nor  old ; it  simply  is.  And 
that  impression  of  its  far-off,  unknown  origin  — for 
" I am  ” expresses  the  eternal  — the  child  will  carry 
through  life,  although  he  may  afterward  learn  that 
it  was  new  when  he  first  heard  it.  But  to  him 
who  was  a man  when  the  word  came  in,  and  who 
reflects  at  all  upon  the  language  that  he  uses, 
it  will  always  have  upon  it  the  stamp  of  newness, 
because  it  is  one  of  the  things  of  which  he  remem- 
bers the  beginning. 

In  bad  eminence,  at  the  head  of  those  intruders 
in  language  which  to  many  persons  seem  to  be  of 
established  respectabilitj^,  but  the  right  of  which 
to  be  at  all  is  not  yet  fully  admitted,  stands  out  the 
form  of  speech  is  being  done^  or  rather,  is  bemg, 
which,  about  seventy  or  eighty  years  ago,  began 
to  affront  the  eye,  torment  the  ear,  and  assault  the 
common  sense  of  the  speaker  of  plain  and  idiomatic 
English.  That  it  should  be  pronounced  a novelty 
will  seem  strange  to  most  of  my  readers ; for  we 
have  all  heard  it  from  our  earliest  childhood.  But 
so  slow  has  been  its  acceptance  among  unlettered 
people,  so  stoutly  has  it  been  resisted  by  the  let- 
tered, that  we  have  heard  it  under  constant  protest ; 
yet  it  is  so  much  used,  and  seems  to  suit  so  well  the 
mental  tone  of  those  who  now  do  most  to  mould  the 
common  speech,  that  to  check  its  diffusion  w^ould  be 
a hopeless  undertaking.  But  to  examine  it  may  be 
worth  our  while,  for  the  sake  of  a lesson  in  language. 

Mr.  Marsh  says  of  this  form  of  speech,  that  it  is 
"an  awkward  neologism,  which  neither  conven- 
ience, intelligibility,  nor  syntactical  congruity  dc”* 
22 


338 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


mands,”  and  that  it  is  the  contrivance  of  some 
grammarian.  But  that  it  is  the  work  of  any  gram- 
marian is  more  than  doubtful.  Grammarians,  with 
all  their,  faults,  do  not  deform  language  with  fan- 
tastic solecisms,  or  even  seek  to  enrich  it  with  new 
and  startling  verbal  combinations.  They  rather 
resist  novelty,  and  devote  themselves  to  formulating 
that  which  use  has  already  established.  It  can 
hardly  be  that  such  an  incongruous  and  ridiculous 
form  of  speech  as  is  being  done  was  contrived  by  a 
man  who,  by  any  stretching  of  the  name,  should  be 
included  among  grammarians.  But,  nevertheless, 
it  is  a worthy  offspring  of  English  grammar;  a 
fitting,  and,  I may  say,  an  inevitable  consequence 
of  the  attempt  to  make  our  mother  tongue  order 
herself  by  Latin  rules  and  standards.  Some  pre- 
cise and  feeble-minded  soul,  having  been  taught 
that  there  is  a passive  voice  in  English,  and  that, 
for  instance,  building  is  an  active  participle,  and 
builded  ov  built  o.  passive,  felt  conscientious  scruples 
at  saying.  The  house  is  building.  For  what  could 
the  house  build?  A house  cannot  build  ; it  must  be 
built.  And  yet  to  say.  The  house  is  built,  is  to  say 
(I  speak  for  him),  that  it  is  finished,  that  it  is 
" done  built.”  Therefore  we  must  find  some  form 
that  will  be  a continuing  present  tense  of  this  pas- 
sive verb  to  be  built ; and  he  found  it,  as  he  thought, 
in  the  form  is  being  built ; supposing  that,  by  the 
introduction  of  the  present  participle,  expressive  of 
continued  existence,  between  is  and  btiilt^  he  had 
modified  the  meaning  both  of  the  former  and  the 
latter.  Others,  like  him,  half  taught  and  badly 
^aught,  precise  and  fussy,  caught  up  the  phrase 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


339 


wliich  seemed  to  them  to  supply  a deficiency  in  their 
passive  voice,  and  so  the  infection  spread  over  Eng- 
land, and  ere  long  into  this  republic.  It  was  con- 
fined, however,  to  the  condition  of  life  in  which  it 
had  its  origin.  Simple-minded  common  people  and 
those  of  culture  were  alike  protected  against  it 
by  their  attachment  to  the  idiom  of  their  mother 
tongue,  with  which  they  felt  it  to  be  directly  at 
variance. 

To  this  day  there  is  not,  in  the  Old  England  or 
vwhe  New,  a farmer’s  boy  who  has  escaped  the 
contamination  of  popular  weekly  papers,  who  would 
not  say.  While  the  new  barn  was  a-building,  unless 
some  prim  schoolma’am  had  taught  him  to  say, 
was  being  built ; and,  at  the  other  extreme  of 
culture,  Macaulay  writes,  " Chelsea  Hospital  was 
building,”  "While  innocent  blood  was  shedding,” 
" While  the  foulest  judicial  murder  that  had  dis- 
graced even  those  times  was  perpetrating.” 

Mr.  Dickens  writes  (Sergeant  Buzfuz’s  speech), 
"The  train  was  preparing.”  In  the  "Atlantic 
Monthly”  for  May,  1869,  I find,  "Another  flank 
movement  was  making,  but  thus  far  with  little 
effect ; ” and  in  the  " Brooklyn  Eagle  ” for  June  13, 
1869,”  St.  Ann’s  Church,  which  has  been  building 
for  nearly  two  years  on  the  corner  of  Livingston 
and  Clinton  Streets.”  I cite  these  miscellaneous 
writers  to  show  modern  and  common  usage,  mean- 
ing to  set  up  neither  the  " Brooklyn  Eagle  ” nor 
Mr.  Dickens  as  a very  liigh  authority  in  the  use  of 
language. 

And  thus,  to  go  no  farther  back  than  the  Eliza- 
oethan  period,  Bishop  Jewel  wrote,  " Some  other 


340 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


there  be  that  see  and  know  that  the  Church  of  God 
is  now  a building,  and  yet,  not  onely  refrain  them- 
selves from  the  worke,  but  also  spume  downe  that 
other  men  have  built  up.”  (Sermons,  Ed.  1583, 
fol.  F.  vii.)  "After  the  Temple  was  buylded,  or 
was  in  building,  and  rearing,  Esdras  the  prophet 
read  the  Law  of  God.”  {^Ideni.  G.  vi.)  And 
Bishop  Hall,  "While  my  body  is  dressing,  not  with 
an  effeminate  curiosity,  nor  yet  with  rude  neglect, 
my  mind  addresses  herself  to  her  ensuing  task ; ” 
and  Shakespeare, 

“ and  when  he  thinks,  good  easy  man, 

His  greatness  is  a-ripening.” 

Henry  VIII. 

Thus  Milton  wrote,  "While  the  Temple  of  the 
Lord  was  building;”  Bolingbroke,  "The  nation 
had  cried  out  loudly  against  the  crime  which  was 
committing ; ” and  Johnson  wrote  to  Boswell, 
"My  'Lives’  are  reprinting.”  Hence  we  see  that 
the  form  ts  being  done^  is  being  made.,  is  being 
built^  lacks  the  support  of  authoritative  usage  from 
the  period  of  the  earliest  classical  English  to  the 
present  day.  That,  however,  it  might  do  without 
if  it  were  consistent  with  reason,  and  conformed 
to  the  normal  development  of  the  language,  else 
there  would  be  no  growth  of  language.  But  that 
very  consistency  and  conformity  it  lacks.  Let  us 
see  why  and  how. 

The  condition  sought  to  be  expressed  by  is  being 
done  is  not  new  in  any  sense.  It  is  neither  a new 
shade  of  thought  nor  a new-born  idea.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  one  of  the  first  conditions  that  need 
expression.  It  has  been  expressed  in  many  Ian- 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


34  i 

^uages  from  remote  ages,  and  very  completely  in 
English  for  centuries.  At  best  the  phrase  is 
merely  a new  name  for  an  old  thing  already  well 
named.  Those  who  use  it  seem  to  me  to  disregard 
the  fitness  of  the  forms  of  speech  by  which  the 
thought  which  they  would  present  has  been  uttered 
by  our  best  writers  and  speakers.  For  example, 
Hamlet  says  to  the  king,  of  the  slain  Polonius,  that 
the  latter  is  at  supper,  " not  where  he  eats,  but 
where  he  is  eaten  ; ” and  the  words  fully  express  — 
there  has  never  been  a doubt  suggested  by  the  most 
microscopic  commentator  that  they  express — just 
what  Flamlet  meant,  that  the  eating  of  Polonius 
was  going  on  at  the  time  then  present.  ” Is  eaten  ” 
does  not  mean  has  been  eaten  u^.  It  is  in  the 
present  tense,  and  expresses  what  has  been  called 
"the  continuous  recipience  of  action,”  as  much 
as  I eat  expresses  continuous  action.  Hamlet  goes 
on  to  say,  " A certain  convocation  of  politic  worms 
are  e’en  at  him.”  So  Hotspur  says,  — 

“ Why,  look  you,  I am  'whit^p'd  and  scourg'd  with  rods, 
Nettled  and  stung  with  pismires  ‘w1ie7i  I hear 
Of  this  vile  politician,  Bolingbroke.” 

It  was  not  necessary  for  Hotspur,  although  he  spoke 
of  time  present,  to  say,  " I am  being  whipped, 
being  scourged,  being  nettled,  being  stung,  when  I 
hear,”  or  for  Hamlet  to  say  that  Polonius  was  being 
eaten,  although  the  worms  were  at  him  while  the 
prince  was  speaking. 

It  will  be  of  some  interest  to  observe  how  this  idea 
has  been  expressed  in  various  languages,  including 
English.  It  may  be,  and  has  been,  expressed,  both 
participially  and  verbally.  In  the  New  Testament 


342 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


(i  Peter  iii.  20)  there  is  the  following  passage  in 
the  original  : kv  ^jJSQaig  xuraajisva'Qouivrjg  xi^cjtoV) 

which,  in  our  English  version,  is  translated  thus  ; 
"In  the  days  of  Noah,  while  the  ark  was  a-j>refar~ 
ing.^'  Here  the  last  clause  represents  the  Greek 
passive  participle  present  used  absolutely  with  the 
substantive,  according  to  the  Greek  idiom.  In  the 
translation  of  1582  we  find,  "when  the  ark  was 
a-huilding in  that  of  1557,  "while  the  ark  was 
j)re^aring but  in  Wycliffe’s  translation,  made 
about  A.  D.  1380,  "In  the  days  of  Noe,  when  the 
ship  was  made.'"'  The  last  form,  which  corre- 
sponds to  Hamlet’s  " not  where  he  eats,  but  where 
he  is  eaten  represents  the  imperfect  subjunctive 
passive,  cum  fahricaretur  arca^'  of  the  Vulgate, 
from  which  WyclifFe  made  his  translation.  In  the 
account  of  the  building  of  Solomon’s  temple  is  an- 
other passage  (i  Kings  vi.  7),  which  serves  in 
illustration  : "And  the  house,  when  it  was  in  build^ 
ing,  zvas  built  of  stone  made  ready  before  it  was 
brought  thither;  so  that  there  was  neither  hammer, 
nor  axe,  nor  any  tool  of  iron  heard  in  the  house 
while  it  was  m buildingi'  Here,  "when  it  w^as  in 
building”  is  represented  in  the  Septuagint  version 
by  Tu  oi>iodoi.iBur6ai  avTOP  (the  infinitive  passive), 
and  in  the  Vulgate  by  cum  cEdiJicarctur'''’ — again 
the  imperfect  subjunctive  passive.  The  German 
translation  gives  in  the  first  instance,  man  die 
archa  zurilstctci^  when  they  prepared  or  fitted  out 
the  ark;  in  the  second,  und  da  das  haus  gcsctzi 
wa7'di'  and  when  the  house  was  founded  ; at  the 
enci  of  the  verse,  " in  building  ” of  the  English  ver- 
sion has  its  exact  counterpart  in  "f?;/  bauc^i.^’’  The 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


343 


French  version  gives,  in  the  first  instance,  pendant 
quc  Varche  se  hdtissoit^^  which,  according  to  the 
French  idiom,  is,  while  the  ark  was  built;  and' in 
the  second  instance,  both  at  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  the  verse,  cn  hdtissant  la  iiiaison,  that  is,  in 
building  the  house.  In  the  Italian  version  w'e  find, 
in  one  passage,  quando  la  casa  fh  edijicatal' 
which  is,  literally,  when  the  house  was  built;  and 
^^mentre  d edijicaval''  while  it  built  itself,  an  idiomatic 
form  for  while  it  was  built ; and  in  the  other,  ac- 
cording to  the  same  idiom,  mentre  d af far  ecchia- 
va  r archaf  while  the  ark  was  prepared.  Now,  all 
these  versions  express  the  same  facts  completely, 
not  only  each  one  of  them  to  those  to  whom  the 
respective  languages  are  vernacular,  but  com- 
pletely to  every  man  who  has  acquired  a knowl- 
edge of  all  these  tongues ; and  in  all  of  them  we 
find  either  the  verbal  substantive  form,  was  in  build- 
ings was  a-frcfarings  was  frcfarings  or  the 
imperfect  verbal  form,  zvas  built ^ was  frcfared. 
In  no  one  of  them,  not  even  in  the  Greek  with  its 
present  passive  participle,  is  there  an  approach  to 
such  a phraseology  as  is  being  donCs  is  being  built, 
which  in  Latin,  for  instance,  could  be  represented 
only  by  the  use  of  the  obsolete  participle  present 
ens,  and  the  monstrous  construction  ens  factus  est, 
ens  cpdifieatus  est. 

In  the  form  is  a-doing,  is  a-malcing,  the  <7  is  a 
mere  degraded  form  of  on  or  in  ] as  in  ten  o’clock 
o’  represents  of  the.  Such  words  as  doing  and 
making  are  both  participles  and  verbal  nouns. 
When  we  say,  I am  doing  thus,  I am  making  this, 
they  are  real  participles.  When  we  say,  It  was 


344 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


long  in  the  doing,  It  was  slow  in  the  making,  they 
are  verbal  nouns.  For  example,  in  the  following 
passage  from  Ascham’s  "Schoolmaster,”  it  is  plain 
that  weepings  learnings  and  misliking,  are  nouns 
no  less  than  grief,  trouble,  and  fear : — 

“And  when  I am  called  from  him  I fall  on  weeping,  because 
whatever  I do  else  but  learning  is  full  of  grief,  trouble,  and  fear, 
and  whole  misliking  unto  me.” 

So  in  the  following  passage  from  Barrow  (Ser- 
mon XIII.),  on  going,  which  we  nowadays  cut 
down  into  a-going,  is  as  much  a noun  as  rest  is  in 
" put  at  rest : ” — 

“ Speech  is  indeed  the  rudder  that  steereth  human  affairs,  the 
spring  that  setteth  the  wheels  of  action  on  going.” 

In  the  Anglo-Saxon,  the  participle  and  the  verbal 
noun  were  distinguished  in  sense  and  in  form ; the 
participle  ending  in  ende,  the  verbal  noun  in  ung. 
In  the  lapse  of  time,  and  by  the  simplifying  pro- 
cess which  I have  before  mentioned,  these  two  ter- 
minations were  blended  in  the  form  ing,  which 
represents  them  both.  Hence  has  arisen  the  dilii- 
culty  of  those  precise  people  who  were  not  content 
to  speak  their  mother  tongue  as  they  learned  it  from 
their  mothers,  and  who  undertook,  not  only  to  crit- 
icise, but  to  take  to  pieces  and  put  together  in  a 
new  shape,  sometliing  the  structure  of  which  they 
did  not  understand.  If,  in  their  trouble  about  the 
active  present  participle,  they  had  looked  into  Ben 
Jonson’s  Grammar  (for  he,  like  Milton,  was  a scholar 
as  well  as  a poet,  and  wrote  an  English  grammar,  as 
Milton  wrote  a Latin  accidence),  they  would  have  seen 
that  he  said  that,  “ Before  the  participle  present,  a 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


345 


an^  have  the  force  of  a gerund  ; ” and  a gerund,  they 
might  have  learned,  was  a Latin  verbal  noun  (taking 
its  name  from  gero,  I bear,  I carry  on),  used  to  express 
the  meaning  of  the  present  infinitive  active,  under 
certain  circumstances.  Jorison  cites,  in  illustration  of 
his  law,  this  line  from  Norton,  " But  there  is  some 
grand  tempest  a-brewing  towards  us,”  which  they 
would  have  done  well  to  consider  before  making 
their  improvement ; for  I think  that,  even  now,  one 
of  their  sort  would  hesitate  to  look  up  into  a lower- 
ing sky,  and  say.  There  is  a storm  being  brewed. 
He  would  be  laughed  at  by  any  sensible  Cape  Cod 
fisherman  or  English  countess.  To  this  day  we 
sajs  — every  man  and  boy  of.  us  who  is  not  fitter 
for  Bedlam  than  many  who  are  sent  there,  — There 
is  a storm  a-brewing,  as  our  forefathers  have  said 
for  centuries.  So,  in  "The  Merchant  of  Venice  ” 
(Act  II.,  Scene  5),  Shylock  says  to  Jessica, — 

“ I am  right  loath  to  go  : 

There  is  some  ill  toward  my  rest; 

For  I did  dream  of  money-bags  to-night.” 

This  <2,  which  represents  f;/,  is  said,  by  Mr. 
Marsh,  to  have  been  dropped  (by  writers,  I sup- 
pose he  means)  about  the  beginning  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  It  might  better  not  have  been 
dropped  at  all ; but  it  began  to  disappear  before 
that  time.  Witness  this  passage  in  Cotton’s  trans- 
lation of  Montaigne’s  Essays,  a masterpiece  of 
idiomatic  English,  which  v^as  produced  about  the 
year  1670  : — 

“A  slave  of  his,  a vicious  ill-conditioned  fellow,  but  that  had 
the  precepts  of  philosophy  often  ringing  in  his  ears,  having,  fci 


34^ 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


some  offence  of  his,  been  stript,  by  Plutarch’s  command,  whilst 
he  was  whipping  m\\\.\QXQ.Ci  at  first  that  he  did  not  deserve  it,  etc., 
etc.”  — Book  II.  “ Of  Anger.” 

That  the  suppression  of  the  a is  a loss  will  be 
clear,  from  consideration  of  this  example.  It  is  un- 
deniable, that  the  phrase  "whilst  he  was  whipping’’ 
might  be  misunderstood  as  meaning,  while  the 
he  was  whipping  a him.  Its  meaning  is  deter- 
mined only  by  the  context.  But  so  is  the  meaning 
of  nearly  half  the  words  in  any  sentence.  If, 
however.  Cotton  had  written  "whilst  he  was  a- 
whipping,”  there  would  be  no  opportunity  for  the 
mistaking  of  the  verbal  noun  whipping  for  the 
present  participle  whipping.  The  distinction  be- 
tween these  two  intimately-related  parts  of  speech 
may  be  clearly  exemplihed  by  the  following  sen- 
tence : Plutarch  was  whipping  a slave,  and  while 
the  slave  was  a-whipping  he  told  his  master  that, 
in  this  whipping,  he  set  at  nought  his  own  moral 
principles.  Here  no  one  can  fail  to  see  at  once  that 
the  first  whipping  is  a participle,  and  that  the  last 
is  a noun  ; and  a moment’s  consideration  will  reveal 
to  any  intelligent  person  that  the  second  whipping 
is  also  not  a participle,  but  a verbal  noun.  If  the  a 
in  " a-whipping  ” were  the  article,  that  would  de- 
cide the  question  ; for  the  article,  definite  or  indefi- 
nite, can  be  used  only  with  a substantive.  This  is 
illustrated  even  by  the  phrase  " a go,”  which  is 
sometimes  heard  ; for.  when  a gentleman  remarks, 
" Here  is  a rum  go,”  without  meaning  any  allusion 
to  spirituous  liquors,  or  if,  with  such  allusion, 
speaks  of  "a  go  of  gin,”  the  anguish  that  he  in- 
flicts upon  the  well-regulated  grammatical  mina 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


347 


is  caused  merely  by  his  placing  the  first  person 
present  indicative  of  the  verb  to  go  in  the  relation 
in  which  it  can  be  properly  parsed  only  as  a nofin. 
But  the  a in  the  phrases,  While  the  slave  was  a- 
whipping,  While  the  house  was  a-building,  While 
the  thing  was  a-doing,  is  not  the  article,  as  I have 
said  before,  but  a mere  corruption  of  or  on^  the 
change  of  which  to  a was  caused,  clearly,  by  that 
lazy  carelessness  of  speech  that  tends  so  much 
to  the  phonetic  degradation  of  language.  Either 
on  or  in^  however,  determines  the  substantive  char- 
acter of  the  words  to  which  it  applies.  As,  for 
example,  if  the  gentleman  just  referred  to  speaks 
of  "going  on  a bust,”  the  preposition,  no  less  than 
the  article,  shows  that  he  is  so  reprobate,  so  lost  to 
Murray  and  to  Moon,  as  to  treat  the  verb  burst  as 
if  it  were  a noun  ; and  his  omission  of  the  r from 
the  perverted  word  is  not  only  a striking  instance 
of  the  addition  of  insult  to  injury,  but  a warning 
example  of  the  phonetic  degradation  of  language, 
and  of  man. 

The  nature  of  this  noun  of  action,  and  of  the 
simple,  strong  construction  which  it  admits,  is 
finely  shown  in  this  pregnant  passage  from  Hobbes 
("  De  Corpore  Politico,”  Part  II.,  chap.  2)  : — 

“ In  the  making  of  a Democracy  there  passeth  no  covenant 
between  the  sovereign  and  any  subject;  for,  while  the  Democ- 
racy is  a-making,  there  is  no  sovereign  with  whom  to  contract.” 

Here  the  word  making  is,  in  both  instances,  the 
same  part  of  speech,  the  representative  of  the  same 
idea,  and  in  the  same  relation  ; and  the  writer  who 
would  change  the  latter  to.  While  the  democracy  is 
being  made,  must  also,  that  his  language  may  not 


348 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


be  at  variance  with  itself  in  one  sentence,  change 
the  former,  and  read.  In  the  being  made  of  a de- 
mocracy, or,  what  is  the  same  thing.  In  a democ- 
racy’s being  made. 

The  latter  course  of  this  idiom  of  in^  on^  or  a 
with  the  verbal  noun  may  be  traced,  and  the  period 
of  the  concoction  of  is  being  may  be  approximated 
by  a comparison  of  the  heading  of  chapter  xxii. 
of  ” Don  Quixote,”  as  it  appears  in  the  principal 
English  translations.  The  original  is  as  follows  : — 

“ De  la  liberdad  que  dio  don  Quixote  a muchos  desdichados 
que  mal  de  su  grado  los  llevaban  donde  no  quisieran  yr.” 

Shelton,  in  1612,  rendered  it  thus:  ” Of  the 
liberty  Don  Quixote  gave  to  many  wretches  who 
were  a-earrying  perforce  to  a place  they  desired 
not.”  Motteux,  A.  D.  1719,  gives,  " How  Don 
Qiiixote  set  free  man}^  miserable  creatures*  who 
were  earrying^  much  against  their  wills,  to  a place 
they  did  not  like.”  Jarvis,  whose  translation  was 
published  in  1742,  has  it  thus  : ” How  Don  Qtiixote 
set  at  liberty  several  unfortunate  persons  who  were 
carrying  much  against  their  wills  where  they  had 
no  wish  to  go.”  But  in  the'  edition  of  Jarvis’s  trans- 
lation published  A.  D.  1818  "carrying”  is  changed 
to  " being  carried.” 

This  change  indicates  the  latter  part  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  as  the  birth-time  of  is  being.  And 
in  fact  the  earliest  known  instance  of  its  use  occurs 
in  a letter  by  Southey  dated  1795.  Coleridge  used 
it,  and  Lamb,  and  Landor  ; yet  after  three-quarters 
of  a century  it  is  pronounced  a novelty  and  a nui- 
sance. It  made  no  little  stir  when  it  was  first 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


349 


brought  here,  and  it  was  adopted  at  once  by  many 
people  — of  course  those  who  wished  to  be  elegant. 
I have  heard  of  an  instance  of  its  use,  after  it  had 
become  in  vogue  among  such  people,  which  illus- 
trates one  of  the  objections  to  which  it  is  obnoxious 
— that  it  represents  an  act  as  going  on  (zs  being") 
and  as  completed  {done)  at  the  same  time.  A 
gentleman  called  early  in  the  evening  at  a house 
with  the  ladies  of  which  he  was  intimate.  The 
door  was  opened  by  a negress,  a bright,  pompous 
wench,  in  one  of  the  Madras  kerchief  head-dresses 
commonly  worn  at  that  time  by  such  women.  She 
needed  not  to  wait  for  his  inquiry  for  the  ladies, 
but  welcomed  him  at  once ; for  he  was  a favored 
guest.  "Good  evenin’,  sar ! Walk  in,  sar.  De 
ladies  bein’  done  gone  to  de  uproar.”  " Gone  to 
the  opera  ! Thank  you,  I won’t  come  in.  I’ll  see 
them  there.”  "No,  sar,  I didn’t  say  dey  done  gone 
to  de  uproar,”  but,  with  a slight  toss  of  the  Madras 
kerchief  and  a smile  of  superior  intelligence,  " dey 
bem^  done  gone.  Walk  in,  sar.  Ole  missus  in  de 
parlor  ; young  missus  be  down  stairs  d’recly.”  My 
grandmother  told  me  that  story,  which  she  heard 
from  the  gentleman  himself,  in  my  boyhood,  neither 
of  us  thinking  that  it  would  be  thus  used  to  expose 
the  absurd  affectation  in  speech  at  which  she 
laughed.  From  the  negress’s  point  of  view,  — that 
is,  the  " done  gone  ” point,  she  was  as  right  in  her 
' bein’  done  gone  ” as  those  whose  speech  she  aped 
were  in  their  " is  being  done,”  and  " is  being  built.” 
To  her,  done  gone  expressed  a going  that  was 
finished,  a completed  going.  But  the  ladies  were 
III  process  of  going,  not  going  or  " gwine  ; ” that 


350 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


would  have  expressed  an  act  too  much  in  the  future 
according,  to  the  new  light  she  had  seen  cast  upon 
language ; and  so  she  boldly  dashed  at  her  contin- 
uing present  of  a completed  action — " bein’ done 
gone.”  She  was  more  nearly  riglit  in  her  practice 
than  some  learned  linguists  are  in  their  theory. 
For  the  phrase  under  consideration  is  not  a " con- 
tinuing present  of  the  passive  voice.”  The  parti- 
ciples done,  built,  etc.,  are  not  passive,  but  merely 
perfect  participles,  as  we  have  seen  before ; and 
being  is  merely  a present  participle.  The  union 
of  the  two,  therefore,  cannot  express  an  existing 
and  continuing  passivity  ; it  merely  brings  preposter- 
ously together  the  ideas  of  the  present  and  the  past. 

The  combination  of  do  and  go  by  the  mean 
whites  and  the  negroes  of  the  South,  chiefly  in  the 
forms  done  gone  and  gone  done,  is  not  wholly  il- 
logical and  absurd ; nor  is  it  without  something 
like  respectable  precedent  in  English  literature. 
Witness  these  passages  from  Chaucer  : — 

“ That  ye  unto  your  sonne  as  trewly 
Done  her  been  wctlded  at  your  home  coming; 

This  is  the  final  end  of  all  this  thing.” 

L,egcnd  of  Good  M'Qmcn,  1.  20q6. 

“ And  I woll  geve  him  all  that  fals 
To  his  chamber  and  to  his  hals; 

I 'ivoll  do  faint  with  ])ure  gold 
And  tapite  hem  full  manifold.” 

21ie  Duchess,  1.  257. 

“ Bid  him  creepe  into  tlie  body 
And  do  it  gone  to  Alcione. 

The  queene,  there  she  lieth  alone.” 

Ibid.,  1.  146. 

And  indeed  the  Southern  jyi-ovincial  use  of  do  and 
go  is  capable  of  formulation  into  tenses,  which,  if  it 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


351 


^vere  not  for  the  prejudice  in  favor  of  other  — in 
the  present  delicate  condition  of  the  country,  I will 
not  say  better — usage,  might  claim  the  attention, 
and  even  the  adhesion,  of  people  like  those  who 
adopt  is  being  done  — who  shun  an  idiom  as  they 
would  be  thought  to  shun  a sin,  and  who  must  be 
correct,  or  die.  For  example  : — 


INDICATIVE  MOOD. 


PRESENT  AND  IMPERFECT  TENSE. 


Singular. 

1.  I done, 

2.  Yer  done, 

3.  He  done, 


Plural. 

1.  We  uns  done, 

2.  You  uns  done, 

3.  They  uns  done. 


1.  I gone  done, 

2.  Yer  gone  done, 

3.  He  gone  done, 


PERFECT. 

1.  We  uns  gone  done, 

2.  You  uns  gone  done, 

3.  They  uns  gone  done. 


PLUPERFECT. 


1.  I done  gone  done, 

2.  Yer  done  gone  done, 

3.  He  done  gone  done, 


1.  We  uns  done  gone  done, 

2.  You  uns  done  gone  done, 

3.  They  uns  done  gone  done. 


1.  I gwine  done, 

2.  Yer  gwine  done, 

3.  He  gwine  done. 


FUTURE. 

1.  We  uns  gwine  done, 

2.  You  uns  gwine  done, 

3.  They  uns  gwine  done. 


FUTURE  PERFECT. 

1.  I gwine  gone  done,  i.  We  uns  gwine  gone  done, 

2.  Yer  gwine  gone  done,  2.  You  uns  gwine  gone  done, 

3.  He  gwine  gone  done,  3.  They  uns  gwine  gone  done. 

Cceiera  desu7tt. 


Here,  I submit,  is  as  regular  and  symmetrical  a 
form  of  conjugation  as  can  be  found  in  any  English 
grammar.  In  some  respects  it  is  more  so.  For 
instance,  the  ambiguity  of  the  singular  and  the 


352 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


plural  you  is  obviated  by  the  use  of  yer  for  the 
second  person  singular,  and  you  tins  for  the  same 
person  plural.  Of  these  two  persons,  on  this  sys- 
tem, there  can  be  no  confusion.  I gw  in  e gone  done 
is  as  reasonable  a part  of  the  verb  to  do  as  I shall 
or  will  have  done. 

But  the  full  absurdity  of  this  phrase,  the  essence 
of  its  nonsense,  seems  not  to  have  been  hitherto 
pointed  out.  The  objection  made  to  it  is,  that  it 
unites  a present  with  a " passive,”  or  rather  a 
perfect  participle.  But  this  combination  is  of  fre- 
quent occurrence,  and,  of  itself,  is  quite  unobjec- 
tionable. For  instance,  "He,  being  forewarned  of 
the  danger,  fled.”  And  there  is  a combination  of  the 
same  participles  which  seems  yet  nearer  in  mean- 
ing to  the  one  under  consideration.  A lady  will 
say  to  her  servant.  Why  can’t  you  set  the  table 
thus,  or  so,  without  being  told  every  morning? 
That  is  good  sense  and  good  English.  In  Cotton’s 
translation  of  Montaigne’s  " Apology  for  Raimond 
de  Sebonde  ” is  this  passage,  which  contains  a 
like  construction:  "There  is  more  understanding 
required  in  the  teaching  of  others  than  in  being 
taughti'  Here  we  have  also  sense  .and  English  ; 
and  that  being  admitted,  it  will  seem  to  some 
persons  a full  justification  of  the  phrase,  " while 
the  boy  is  being  taught.”  It  is  not  so,  however. 
Florio,  writing  nearl}'^  a hundred  years  before 
Cotton,  translates  the  same  passage  thus:  "More 
discourse  is  required  to  teach  others  than  to  be 
Lauo-ht,”  usincf  the  infinitive  in  both  parts  of  the 
sentence.  The  likeness  between  the  infinitive  and 
the  verbal  noun  is  so  close  that  the  latter  may 


IS  Bx£ING  DONE. 


353 


almost  always  be  used  for  the  former,  although 
the  former  may  not  be  used  for  the  latter.  Mon- 
taigne used  the  verbal  noun  in  both  instance's. 
Ilis  sentence  has  merely  an  elision  of  the  article 
before  the  last  verbal  noun,  and  in  full  is,  "There 
is  more  understanding  required  in  the  teaching 
of  others  than  in  the  being  taught.”  This  elision 
is  common,  and  appears  in  the  lady’s  question  to 
her  servant,  which  in  full  is.  Why  cannot  you 
set  the  table  thus  without  [what?  some  object]  — 
without  the  being  told? 

What,  then,  is  the  fatal  absurdity  in  this  phrase, 
which  has  been  so  long  and  so  widely  used  that,  to 
some  people,  it  seems  to  be  an  old  growth  of 
the  language,  while  it  is  yet  in  fact  a mere  trans- 
planted sucker,  without  life  and  without  root?  It 
is  in  the  combination  of  zs  with  being;  in  the 
making  of  the  verb  to  be  a complement,  or,  in 
grammarians’  phrase,  an  auxiliary  to  itself — an 
absurdity  so  palpable,  so  monstrous,  so  ridiculous 
that  it  should  need  only  to  be  pointed  out  to  be 
scouted.  To  be  — called  by  Latin  grammarians 
the  substantive  verb  — expresses  mere  existence. 
It  predicates  of  its  subject  either  simple  absolute 
existence  or  whatever  attribute  follows  it.  To  be 
and  to  exists  if  not  perfect  synonymes,  are  more 
nearly  so,  perhaps,  than  any  two  verbs  in  the  lan- 
guage. In  some  of  their  meanings  there  is  a 
shade  of  difference,  but  in  others  there  is  none 
whatever ; and  the  latter  are  those  which  serve 
oui  present  purpose.  When  we  say.  He,  being 
forewarned  ol  danger,  fled,  we  say.  He,  existing 
forewarned  of  danger,  fled.  When  we  say  that 
23 


354 


WORDS  AND  TIiJ:iR  USES. 


a thing  is  done,  we  say  that  it  exists  done.  When 
we  say,  That  being  done  I shall  be  satisfied,  we 
say.  That  existing  done  I shall  be  satisfied.  Is 
being  done  is  simply  exists  existing  done.  To  say, 
therefore,  that  a thing  is  being  done  is  not  only 
to  say  (in  respect  of  the  last  two  participles)  that  a 
process  is  going  on  and  is  finished,  at  the  same 
time,  but  (in  respect  of  the  whole  phrase)  that 
it  exists  existing  finished ; which  is  no  more  or 
other  than  to  say  that  it  exists  finished,  is  finished, 
is  done;  which  is  exactly  what  those  who  use  the 
phrase  do  not  mean.  It  means  that  if  it  means 
anything ; but  in  fact  it  means  nothing,  and  is  the 
most  incongruous  combination  of  words  and  ideas 
that  ever  attained  respectable  usage  in  any  civilized 
language. 

This  absurdit}^  is  cloaked  by  the  formation  of  to  be 
from  parts  of  three  verbs,  which  gives’  us  such 
dissimilar  forms  as  is  for  the  present  tense,  was 
for  the  past,  and  being  for  the  present  participle. 
It  seems  as  if  in  is  being  there  were  two  verbs. 
We  may  be  sure  that  if  the  present  participle  of 
{o  he  were  formed  like  that  of  to  love  {loving') 
we  should  never  have  heard  the  phrases  bes  being 
done  or  is  ising  done^  bes  being  built  or  is  ising 
built.  This  nonsense  is  hidden  from  the  eye  and 
deadened  to  the  ear  by  the  dissimilarity  in  form  of 
is  and  being.  We  may  rightly  use  to  have  as  a 
complement  to  itself,  and  say  have  had.,  or  even  had 
had,  because  we  can  have  having,  possess  posses- 
sion. But  we  cannot  be  being,  exist  existence. 
To  be  being  is  merely  to  be  ; nothing  more  or  less. 
ft  is  being  is  simply  equal  to  it  is.  And  in  the 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


355 


supposed  corresponding  Latin  phrases  ens  /actus 
csts  cns  cBdi/catus  cst  (the  obsoleteness  of  C7is  as 
a participle  being  granted),  the  monstrosity  is  not  in 
the  use  of  ens  with  factus,  but  in  that  of  cns  with 
est.  The  absurdity  is  in  Latin  just  what  it  is  in 
English,  the  use  of  is  with  beings  the  making  of 
the  verb  to  he  a complement  to  itself. 

But  it  is  strongly  urged,  and  speciously  main- 
tained, that  to  be  and  to  exist  are  not  synonymes 
when  the  former  is  used  as  a so-called  auxiliary 
verb.  In  the  words  of  one  critic,  "The  verb  is^  as 
a co/ila  between  a subject  and  a predicate,  is  no 
synonyme  with  the  verb  exist.  It  does  not  affirm 
the  existence  of  either  subject  or  predicate.  It  is 
simply  the  sign  of  connection,  the  coupler,  direct- 
ing the  reader  to  think  subject  and  predicate  in 
unity.” 

That  there  is  a difference  between  the.  significa- 
tion of  a verb  used  independently,  and  that  which  it 
has  as  a so-called  auxiliary,  seems  to  me,  with  my 
present  light,  a mere  fiction  of  the  grammarians, 
whose  rules  are,  in  my  judgement,  valuable  only  in 
those  rare  instances  in  which  they  conform  to  rea- 
son and  common  sense,  in  behalf  of  which  I have 
dared  to  do  battle. 

This  very  notion  that  the  verb  is  a copula,  ful- 
lilling  the  functions  of  a coupler  in  a sentence,  is 
one  of  those  against  which,  in  boyhood,  I beat  my 
inapprehensive  head  in  vain.  Now,  apprehending 
it,  I believe  it  to  be  the  merest  linguistic  fiction  with 
which  man  ever  w'as  deluded.  The  verb  is  the  life 
of  the  sentence.  A sentence  is  an  assertion,  direct 
or  hypothetical ; and  it  is  the  verb,  and  the  verb  only* 


35^  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

which  asserts.  Assertion  is  its  peculiar  and  exclu 
sive  characteristic.  True,  in  asserting  it  does  con- 
nect subject  and  predicate  ; but  this  is  an  incidental, 
and  we  might  almost  say  an  unessential,  function 
of  the  verb,  whose  office  is  to  move  the  sentence,  to 
be  the  engine  that  propels  the  train  of  thought,  and 
not  the  coupling  that  keeps  it  together. 

The  substantive  verb  to  be  expresses  existence ; 
and  whether  used  by  itself  or  in  connection  with  a 
participle  or  an  adjective,  it  does  nothing  more. 
But  existence  may  be  simple  and  absolute,  or  it  may 
be  modified  by  the  relations  of  its  subject  to  some 
condition  or  quality.  In  the  sentence  ” Socrates  is,” 
simple  existence  is  predicated  of  Socrates ; but  in 
this,  "Socrates  speaks,”  a certain  act,  that  is,  ex- 
istence together  with  a certain  condition  of  exist- 
tence,  is  predicated  of  him.  For  it  is  as  true  now 
as  it  was  when  Aristotle  said  it,  as  true  of  English 
as  of  Greek,  that  the  assertion  "Socrates  speaks” 
is  equivalent  to  the  assertion  " Socrates  is  speaking.” 
Now,  it  seems  to  me  clear  that  the  difference  be- 
tween " Socrates  is  ” and  " Socrates  is  speaking  ” is 
merely  that  the  former  predicates  simple  existence 
of  Socrates,  and  the  latter,  existence  and  something 
more.  The  participle  sneaking  modifies,  both  by 
limitation  and  expansion,  the  assertion  of  the  verb 
is,  " Socrates  is  speaking  ” is  equivalent  to  " Soc- 
rates exists  speaking.”  So  when  we  say  that  a 
man  is  loved,  is  hated,  is  condemned,  we  say  merely 
ihat  the  loved,  hated,  or  condemned  condition  is 
that  in  which  he  exists.  And  even  the  sentence 
"the  man  is  dead”  is  equivalent,  neither  mure  nor 
less,  to  the  other,  "the  man  exists  dead.”  If  the 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


357 


last  example  should  provoke,  even  in  those  who 
accept  its  predecessors,  a smiling  doubt,  and  a sus- 
picion that  this  example  is  fatal  to  my  view  of  the 
meaning  of  to  dc,  it  must  be  by  reason  of  a mis- 
apprehension of  the  meaning  of  the  verb  exist  as  it 
is  used  in  this  construction.  If  exist  must  mean 
literally  is  alive,  and  nothing  else,  we  cannot  accept 
the  sentence  "the  man  exists  (is  alive)  dead,”  as 
the  equivalent  of  " the  man  is  dead.”  But  an  objec- 
tion resting  upon  this  assumed  ambiguity  can  be 
quickly  set  aside.  The  existence  predicated  by  the 
substantive  verb  to  he  is  not  necessarily  one  of  life, 
but  one  that  is  predicable  alike  of  things  animate 
and  inanimate.  We  say  that  a planet,  a country, 
a town  exists,  or  that  it  does  not  exist,  i.  e.,  that  it 
is,  or  is  not ; as  Virgil  made  vT^neas  say  yicit  Ilium ^ 
or  as  we  might  say,  using  the  verb  to  be  in  two 
tenses  to  express  the  same  fact.  The  man  was,  and 
is  not;  in  which  sentence  was  predicates  an  exist- 
ence past,  and  is  not,  a negative  existence  present ; 
a negative  existence  being  no  more  a contradiction 
in  terms  than  a negative  affirmation.  So  when  we 
say,  The  man  is  dead,  we  merely  predicate  of  him 
a dead  existence,  which  so  far  as  he  is  concerned 
is  no  existence  at  all  in  this  world,  as  far  as  we 
know ; but  so  far  as  we  are  concerned  with  him  as 
the  subject  of  speech,  is  a mere  change  in  the  con- 
dition of  his  existence.  With  a ruined  city  or  a 
dead  man  before  us,  the  existence  of  either  palpa- 
ble, though  changed  in  its  condition,  we  say.  The 
city  exists  no  more,  or.  The  city  is  (exists)  ruined. 
The  man  exists  no  more,  or.  The  man  is  (exists) 
dead.  To  this  sense  of  the  word  exists  lite  is  not 


358 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


more  essential  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other. 
This  construing  may  easily  be  ridiculed,  but  I am 
quite  sure  that  it  will  outlive  any  ridicule  that  it 
may  provoke,  and  that  it  affords  the  only  reasona- 
ble explanation  of  the  intimate  signification  of  such 
phrases  as  those  which  have  just  been  given  in 
illustration. 

Horne  Tooke,  as  if  to  leave  an  example  not  to  be 
set  aside  of  the  identity  of  is  and  exists  wrote  the 
following  remarkable  sentence  in  his  dialogue  ”Of 
Prepositions.”  B.  asks  whether  good-breeding  or 
policy  dictated  a certain  sharp  criticism  upon  Dr. 
Johnson  and  Bishop  Lowth.  H.  I'eplies, — 

“ Neither.  But  a quality  which  passes  for  brutality  and  ill 
nature ; and  which,  in  spite  of  hard  blows  and  heavy  burdens, 
would  make  me  rather  chuse  in  the  scale  of  beings  to  exist  a 
mastiff  or  a mule  than  a monkey  or  a lap-dog.”  — Div.  of  Pur., 
I.  370,  ed.  1798. 

Now,  can  any  man  who  has  preserved  all  his 
senses  doubt  for  a moment  that  ‘‘  to  exist  a mastiff  or 
a mule  ” is  absolutely  the  same  as  " to  be  a mastiff 
or  a mule?”  And  can  such  a person  believe  that  in 
the  phrases,  to  be  a mule,  to  be  stubbomt,  and  to  be 
beaten,  there  is  the  least  shade  of  difference  in  the 
meaning  of  the  verb  to  be  7 that  it  has  one  mean- 
ing when  it  is  followed  by  the  noun,  mule,  and  the 
same  when  it  is  followed  by  the  adjective,  stubboi'n, 
but  another  when  it  is  followed  by  the  participle, 
beaten,  which  is  but  a kind  of  adjective?  If  there  is 
such  a difference,  then  the  verb  must  have  the  former 
meaning  before  the  adjective  afraid  in  the  sentence, 
He  is  afraid.  But  afraid  is  merely  the  perfect 
participle  of  the  verb  affray  — affrayed,  afrayed,  the 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


359 


same  as  the  old  participle  afeared^  from  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  afaeran , and  how  and  when  did  the  verb 
to  be  change  its  meaning  by  the  mere  contraction 
of  affrayed  into  afraid  1 

But  it  is  said  that  the  use  of  is  with  being  involves 
no  absurdity,  because  here  being  does  not  mean 
existing,  but  continuing.  In  illustration  of  which, 
the  phrase,  The  anvil  is  being  struck  is  given. 
That,  we  are  told,  is  equivalent  to.  The  anvil  is  con- 
tinuing struck.  Being  struck  implies  a process, 
a continuity  of  some  sort  beyond  a simple  instant. 
Is  affirms  the  being  struck  of  the  anvil.”  Let  us 
examine  that  position,  and  see  if  it  relieves  us  of 
confusion  and  ambiguity.  Keeping  to  Noah’s  ark, 
let  us  say.  The  ark  being  finished,  the  hippopotamus 
declined  entering  it.  Does  that  mean,  the  ark  con- 
tinuing finished,  etc.?  The  bond  being  given.  Shy- 
lock  lent  the  money.  Does  that  mean  the  bond 
continuing  given,  etc.?  Plainly  it  does  not,  cannot 
mean,  in  either  case,  that,  or  anything  like  that. 
We  find  ourselves  landed  in  the  confusion  and  the 
ambiguity  of  assuming  that  in,  "The  ark  being 
prepared,”  being  has  one  meaning,  and  in,  " The 
ark  is  being  prepared,”  another.  But  if  we  hold 
to  reason,  and  regard  being  as  always  meaning 
existing,  and  f'efaring^  buildings  as  verbal  sub- 
stantives that  mean  a process,  we  have  no  confu- 
sion, neither  ambiguity  nor  absurdity.  The  ark 
being  prepared,  means  the  ark  existing  prepared ; 
and.  While  the  ark  was  in  preparing,  or  was  pre- 
paring, means  while  the  ark  was  in  process  of  prep- 
aration. Is  there  a man  of  sense  who  can  speak 
English,  who  does  not  understand,  In  the  building 


360 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


of  the  house  to  mean  in  the  process  of  the  erection 
of  the  house?  It  is  safe  to  say,  not  one.  The 
verbal  substantive  in  mg^  or,  if  3^ou  please,  the 
present  participle  used  substantively,  expresses,  to 
the  apprehension  of  all  men,  a process.  And  such 
phrases  as  being  bemg  done^  must  be  used 

absolutely,  in  a participial  sense,  as.  The  house 
being  built,  he  went  into  it ; The  thing  being  done, 
it  could  not  be  helped ; or  they  must  be  used  sub- 
stantively. For  example,  the  following  passage  from 
the  first  book  of  Young’s  ” Night  Thoughts  ; ” — 

“ Of  man’s  miraculous  mistakes  this  bears 
The  palm  : That  all  men  are  about  to  live. 

Forever  on  the  brink  of  being  born.” 

Here  being  born  is  a substantive,  equivalent  to 
births  as  much  a substantive  as  any  single  word  in 
any  language.  Which  may  be  shown  thus  : — 

r an  abyss. 

Forever  on  the  brink  of  J 

L birth. 

We  can  sa}^  His  being  born  at  that  time  was 
fortunate,  as  well  as.  His  birth  at  that  time  was 
fortunate.  But,  to  meet  the  last  and  most  specious 
suggestion  which  has  been  made  in  favor  of  the 
is-being  or  to-be-being  phraseology,  that  is  merely 
predicates  of  its  subject  the  being  and  the  following 
participle  — we  cannot  say.  He  was  birth  ; and  no 
more  can  we  correctly  say.  He  was  being  born. 
And  so  we  may  say.  The  anvil’s  being  struck  was 
evident ; in  which  being  struck  means  the  blow 
which  the  anvil  received,  and  which  thus  is  the 
anvil’s  blow ; but  we  cannot  correctly  (/.  c.^  logical-* 
ly,  in  accordance  with  reason  and  common  sense) 


IS  BEING  BONE. 


361 


say,  The  anvil  was  being  struck,  any  more  than  we 
can  say,  The  anvil  was  blow.  If  we  wish  to  say 
that  the  anvil  is  in  the  continued  recipience  of 
blows,  and  do  not  wish  to  say  substantively.  The 
anvil  is  in  striking,  or  a striking,  or  striking,  we 
may  with  perfect  propriety  and  clearness  of  ex- 
pression say,  The  anvil  is  struck,  as  Hamlet  said 
Polonius  '^is  eaten.”  Is  struck  does  not  mean  has 
been  struck,  as  is  eaten  does  not  mean  has  been 
eaten  : both  express  present  continuous  recipience 
of  action. 

These  comparisons  and  this  reasoning  are  perti- 
nent to  the  consideration  of  what  has  been  said  in 
defence  of  the  phrase  is  being  donc^  because  that 
phrase  is  not  an  idiom  which  came  into  the  lan- 
guage in  its  unconscious  formative  stages,  but  the 
deliberate  production  of  some  pedantic  writer  of 
the  last  generation,  who  sought  to  make,  in  the 
words  of  one  of  his  apologists,  ” a form  of  expres- 
sion which  should  accurately  represent  the  form  of 
thought,”  that  thought  being  one  which  has  been 
fully  expressed  among  all  civilized  peoples  for  thou- 
sands of  years ; and  the  result  of  his  labors  is,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  a monstrosity,  the  illogi- 
cal, confusing,  inaccurate,  unidiomatic  character 
of  wdiich  I have  at  some  length,  but  3^et  imperfectl}^ 
set  forth.  The  suggestion  has  been  made  that,  in 
the  phrase  under  examination,  is  means  becomes, 
and  that  the  house  is  being  built  means,  the  house 
is  becoming  built.  Now,  if  any  man  chooses  to 
say.  The  house  is  becoming  built,  I,  for  one,  shall 
make  no  objection  other  than  that  he  is  setting  aside 
a healthy  and  sufficient  idiom,  which  has  grown 
up  naturally  wdth  the  language,  and  is,  in  fact,  co« 


362 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


eval  with  its  birth,  for  a new  phrase  which  has 
nothing  of  force  or  of  accuracy  in  its  favor.  But 
that  is  does,  or  by  any  possibility  can,  mean  be- 
comes, that  the  verb  of  existence,  the  substantive 
verb,  can  in  any  way  represent  or  be  represented 
by  another  verb,  the  radical  thought  in  which  is 
motion  toward,  entrance  into,  is,  I confess,  beyond 
my  comprehension. 

The  question  is  thus  narrowed  simply  to  this : 
Does  to  he  being  {esse  ens)  mean  anything  more  or 
other  than  to  hel  Does  it  so  mean  logically,  accord- 
ing to  the  common  sense  of  men,  and  the  spirit  and 
analogies  of  the  language?  For  as  to  what  it  may 
be  made  to  mean,  what  men  may  agree  to  accept  it 
as  meaning,  there  is  nothing  to  be  said.  Beef^  for 
a good  reason,  means  the  flesh  of  the  ox,  and  steak, 
for  a like  reason,  flesh  in  large  slices  ; and  therefore 
beefsteak  means  the  flesh  of  the  ox  in  large  slices. 
But  there  is  no  telling  whether  by  the  labors  of  those 
who  wish  to  " slough  off”  old,  uncouth  forms,  and  to 
make  " the  form  of  expression  accurately  represent 
the  form  of  thought,”  people  may  not  be  led  to  agree 
that  it  shall  mean  plum-pudding. 

What  then  should  we  do?  Should  we  say,  While 
the  boy  was  whipping,  The  room  was  sweeping. 
The  dinner  was  eating.  The  cow  was  milking.  The 
meat  is  cooking?  Yes:  why  not?  Why  not,  as 
well  as.  The  bell  is  tolling.  The  grain  is  ripening, 
The  bread  is  baking?  Could  tliere  be  a more  absurd 
affectation  than,  instead  of.  The  tea  has  been  draw- 
ing five  minutes,  to  sa}^  The  tea  has  been  being 
drawn  five  minutes?  Been  being — is  that  sense,  or 
English?  — except  to  children,  who  say  that  they 
have  been  being  naughty,  thereby  saying  only  tlia/ 


IS  BEING  DONE. 


3^3 

they  have  been  naughty.  Yet  the  tea  draws  noth- 
ing, it  is  drawn  ; the  bread  bakes  nothing,  it  is  bak,ed  ; 
the  grain  ripens  nothing,  it  is  ripened.  But  when 
we  say  that.  The  tea  is  drawing,  we  do  not  say  that 
it  is  an  agent  drawing  anything,  but  that  it  is  itself 
in  drawing.  And  so  with  regard  to  all  the  other 
examples  given,  and  all  possible  examples.  In 
Goldsmith’s  "Citizen  of  the  World”  (Letter  XXL) 
is  the  following  passage,  descriptive  of  a play  : — 

“The  fifth  act  began,  and  a busy  piece  it  was;  scenes  shift- 
ing, trumpets  sounding,  drums  beating,  mobs  hallooing,  carpets 
spreading,  guards  bustling  from  one  door  to  the  other;  gods, 
demons,  daggers,  rags,  and  ratsbane.” 

Read  the  second  clause  of  the  sentence  according 
to  the  formula  is  being  done,  " Scenes  being  shifted, 
trumpets  being  sounded,  drums  being  beaten,  mobs 
hallooing,  carpets  being  spread,”  and  so  forth.  By 
this  change  the  very  life  is  taken  out  of  the  subject. 
No  longer  a busy  piece,  it  drags  its  wounded  and 
halting  body  along,  and  dies  before  it  gets  to  rags 
and  ratsbane. 

If  precise  affectation  can  impose  upon  us  such  a 
phrase  as  is  being  done  for  is  doings  it  must  needs 
drive  all  idioms  kindred  to  the  latter  from  the  lan- 
guage. Our  walking  sticks,  our  fishing  rods,  and 
our  fasting  days,  because  they  cannot  walk,  or  fish, 
or  fast,  must  be  changed  into  to-be-walked-with 
sticks,  to-be-fished-with  rods,  and  to-be-fasted-on 
days  ; and  our  church-going  bells  must  become  for- 
to-church-go  bells,  because  they  are  not  the  belles 
that  go  to  church.  Such  ruin  comes  of  laying  pre- 
sumptuous hands  upon  idioms,  those  sacred  myste- 
ries of  language. 


364 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES 


CHAPTER  XII. 


A DESULTORY  DENUNCIATION  OF  ENGLISH 
DICTIONARIES.* 


DICTIONARY  is  an  explanatory  word  cat- 


jr\.  alogue ; and  a perfect  one  will  contain  the 
entire  literary  and  colloquial  vocabulary  of  a lan- 
guage ; that  is,  every  simple  word,  and  every  com- 
pound word  with  a single  and  peculiar  meaning, 
having  the  authority  of  usage  respectable  for  an- 
tiquity, generality,  or  the  eminence  of  the , user. 
It  would  seem  that  such  a catalogue  could  be 
certainly  made,  patient  research  and  a not  very 
remarkable  degree  of  learning  being  the  only  requi- 
sites to  its  making.  But,  in  fact,  an  absolutely 
perfect  dictionary  of  any  living  language  does  not 
exik,  and  perhaps  will  never  exist,  for  the  reason 
that  it  cannot  be  produced. 

* In  the  first  sentence  of  this  chapter  as  it  was  originally  published  (in  the  “ Gal- 
axy” for  May,  1869),  I mentioned  that,  but  a short  time  before  the  writing  of  it,  I 
had  heard,  for  the  first  time,  of  Trench’s  pamphlet,  “ On  some  Deficiencies  in  our 
English  Dictionaries,  ” of  which  I had  until  then  in  vain  souglit  a siglit,  either  as  a 
buyer  or  a borrower.  Since  that  time  — owing  to  the  kindness  of  one  of  tlie  proprie- 
tors of  Brotherhead  & Company’s  Library — I have  had  an  opportunity  of  reading 
the  dean’s  criticism.  The  differences  between  my  reverend  predecessor’s  jmesentation 
of  the  subject  and  my  own  arise  chiefly  from  tlie  difference  of  the  ideals  we  each  had 
in  mind.  His  dictionary  is  a philological  history  of  the  language,  with  illustrative 
examples  ; mine,  a hand-book  of  every-day  reference  for  the  general  reader.  I have 
modified  none  of  my  opinions  since  reading  Archbishop  Trench  s pa.nphlet ; but  I 
have  obtained  the  advantage  of  citing  his  judgement  in  support  of  my  own  or 
se/eral  important  points. 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES.  365 

Bailey’s  " Universal  Etymological  English  Dic- 
tionary ” was  the  first  worthy  attempt  at  the  making 
of  a word-book  of  our  language;  and  it  was  a 
very  creditable  work  for  the  time  of  its  publication, 
A.  D.  1726.  For  those  who  care  to  do  more  about 
language  than  to  see  how  ” the  dictionary  ” says 
a word  should  be  spelled,  or  what  it  means,  Bailey’s 
work  has  never  been  entirely  superseded.  There 
was  some  reason  that  the  compiler  should  say  that 
he  had  enriched  his  book  with  " several  thousand 
English  words  and  phrases  in  no  English  dictionary 
before  extant ; ” for  the  English  dictionaries  that  pre- 
ceded his  were  so  small  and  deficient,  that,  as  repre- 
sentations of  the  vocabulary  of  our  language,  they 
were  of  little  worth.  But  the  boasting  of  subsequent 
dictionary-makers,  like  most  other  boasting,  is 
empty  and  ridiculous  in  proportion  to  the  magnitude 
of  its  pretensions.  When  we  are  told  that  Web- 
ster’s Dictionary  contains  sixteen  thousand  words 
not  found  in  any  similar  preceding  work,  and  then 
that  the  Imperial  Dictionary  contains  fifteen  thou- 
sand words  more  than  Webster’s,  and  yet  again 
that  the  Supplement ' to  the  Imperial  Dictionary 
contains  twenty  thousand  words  more  than  the 
body  of  the  work,  we  might  well  believe  that  our 
language  spawns  words  as  herrings  spawn  eggs, 
and  that  a mere  catalogue  of  its  component  parts 
would  soon  fill  a shelf  in  an  ordinary  library,  were 
it  not  that  when  we  come  to  examine  these  additions 
of  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  words  thus 
set  forth  as  made  in  each  new  dictionary,  and  in 
each  new  edition  of  each  dictionary,  we  find  tha< 
not  one  in  a hundred  of  the  added  words,  hardly 


366 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


one  in  a thousand,  is  really  a before  uncatalogued 
item  of  the  English  vocabulary.  Our  estimate  of 
the  worth  of  an  addition  that  proceeds  by  columns 
of  four  figures  is  further  lowered  by  the  discovery 
that  these  dictionaries,  with  all  their  ponderous  bulk 
and  verbal  multitudinousness,  do  not  fully  represent 
the  English  of  literature  or  of  common  life ; that 
they  give  no  aid  to  the  reading  of  some  of  our 
standard  authors ; that  while  they  set  forth,  with 
wearisome  superfluity  and  puerile  iteration,  that 
upon  which  every  one  who  has  sense  and  knowl- 
edge enough  to  use  a dictionary  at  all,  needs  no 
information,  they  pass  by  as  obsolete,  or  vulgar, 
or  colloquial,  or  what  not,  that  upon  which  people 
of  intelligence  and  education  do  need  instruction 
from  the  special  students  of  language ; and  that, 
while  they  spot  their  pages  with  foreign  words  and 
phrases,  the  use  of  which  by  some  writers  has 
shown,  with  a superficial  knowledge  of  other 
tongues,  a profound  ignorance  of  their  own,  — they 
neglect  home-born  words  that  have  been  in  use 
since  English  was  written  or  spoken. 

That  works  to  which  the  foregoing  objections  can 
be  justly  made  — as  they  may  be,  in  a greater  or 
less  degree,  to  every  existing  English  dictionary  — 
can  have  no  real  authority,  is  too  plain  to  need 
insisting  upon  with  much  particularity.  As  to 
dictionaries  of  the  present  day,  that  swell  every 
few  years  by  the  thousand  items,  the  presence 
of  a word  in  one  of  them  shows  merely  that  its 
compiler  has  found  that  word  in  some  dictionary 
older  than  his  own,  or  in  some  not  low  and 
indecent  publication  of  the  day ; the  absence  ot 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


3^>7 


a word  from  any  one  of  them  showing  merely  that 
it  has  not  been  thus  met  with  by  the  dictionary- 
maker.  Its  presence  or  its  absence  has  this  signifi- 
cance, and  no  more.  Word-books  thus  compiled 
have  the  value  which  always  pertains  to  large  col- 
lections of  things  of  one  kind,  even  although  the 
things  may  be  intrinsically  and  individually  of  little 
worth;  but  the  source *of  any  authority  in  such 
word-collections  it  would  be  difficult  to  discover. 
Upon  the  proper  spelling,  pronunciation,  etymology, 
and  definition  of  words,  a dictionary  might  be  made 
to  which  high  and  almost  absolute  authority  could 
justly  be  awarded.  And  the  first  and  the  second 
of  these  points  are  determined,  with  a very  near 
approximation  to  such  merit,  in  the  works  of 
Ogilvie,  Latham,  Richardson,  Worcester,  and  that 
which  is  strangely  enough  called  Webster’s. 

With  one  exception.  Etymology  is  the  least  valua-  • 
ble  element  in  the  making  of  a dictionary,  as  it  is 
of  interest  only  to  those  who  wish  to  study  the 
history  of  language.  It  helps  no  man  in  his  use  of 
the  word  bishop  to  know  that  it  comes  from  two 
Greek  words,  meaning  upon,  and5C(?^^?5,  mean- 
ing a looker,  still  less  to  be  told  into  what  forms  those 
words  have  passed  in  Spanish,  Arabic,  and  Persian. 
Yet  it  is  in  their  etymologies  that  our  dictionaries 
have  shown  most  improvement  during  the  last 
twenty-five  years ; they  having  profited  in  this 
respect  by  the  recent  great  advancement  in  the  ety- 
inologica'  department  of  philology.  The  etymolo- 
gies of  words  in  our  recently  published  dictionaries, 
although,  as  I have  said  before,  they  are  of  no  great 
value  for  the  purposes  for  which  dictionaries  are  con- 


368 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


suited,  are  little  nests  (sometimes  slightly  mare-ish) 
of  curious  and  agreeable  information,  and  afford  a 
very  pleasant  and  instructive  pastime  to  those  who 
have  the  opportunity  and  the  inclination  to  look 
into  them.  But  they  are  not  worth,  in  a dictionary, 
all  the  labor  that  is  spent  on  them,  or  all  the  room 
they  occupy.  The  noteworthy  spectacle  has  lately 
been  shown  of  the  casting  over  of  the  whole  ety- 
mological freight  of  a well-known  dictionary,  and 
the  taking  on  board  of  another.  For  the  etymolo- 
gical part  of  the  last  edition  of  "Webster’s  American 
Dictionary,”  so  called.  Dr.  Mahn,  of  Berlin,  is  re- 
sponsible. When  it  was  truly  called  Webster’s  Dic- 
tionary, it  was  in  this  respect  discreditable  to  scholar- 
ship in  this  country,  and  even  indicative  of  mental 
supineness  in  a people  upon  whom  such  a book  could 
be  imposed  as  having  authority.  And  now  that  it 
is  relieved  of  this  blemish,  it  is,  in  this  respect, 
neither  Webster’s  Dictionary  nor  " American,”  but 
Malm’s  and  German. 

Dictionaries  are  consulted  chiefly  for  their  defini- 
tions ; and  yet,  upon  this  point,  all  our  English 
dictionaries  are  more  or  less  misleading  and  confus- 
ing. And  they  are  so  in  a great  measure  because 
the  desire  to  multiply  words  has  its  counterpart 
in  the  desire  to  multiply  definitions,  in  defiance  of 
simple  common  sense.  Minuteness  of  division  and 
variety  of  signification  have  been  sought,  that  the 
book  might  be  big,  and  its  definitions  be  styled 
copious.  They  have  been  marshalled  one  after  the 
other  in  single  file,  that  their  array  might  be  the 
more  imposing  ; and  to  increase  the  impressiveness 
of  the  spectacle,  they  are  solemnly  numbered 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


369 


And  so,  at  last,  we  are  seriously  told  that,  for 
mstance,y^//,  as  a verb,  has  twenty-eight  meanings, 
and  as  a noun  nineteen  — all  as  well-defined  and 
several  as  the  two-and-seventy  stinks  that  Cole- 
ridge found  in  the  City  of  Cologne  — besides  thirty- 
eight  which  it  has  in  established  phrases  I But  this 
simple  word  is  far  over-passed,  in  the  multitude  and 
variety  of  the  meanings  assigned  to  it,  by  another, 
run^  which  would  seem  to  express  always  one  sim- 
ple thought,  as  clearly  and  absolutely  as  is  possible 
in  language.  We  are  actually  told  that  run^  as 
a verb  transitive,  has  fifty-six  distinct  meanings, 
thirteen  as  a verb  intransitive,  and  fourteen  as  a 
noun,  besides  twenty-seven  in  current  phrases.  To 
each  one  of  these  a special  paragraph  is  given, 
so  that  the  line  stretches  out  like  that  of  Banquo’s 
progeny  in  the  witches’  cave ; and  by  the  tenuity 
of  its  sense,  it  vanishes  away  into  nothing,  like  the 
receding  figures  in  a perspective  diagram.  Here 
are  some  of  these  definitions  of  falU  as  they  are 
given  in  Webster’s  Dictionary.  Of  the  verb,  — 

5.  To  die,  particularly  by  violence. 

6.  To  come  to  an  end  suddenly,  to  vanish,  to  perish. 

7.  To  be  degraded,  to  sink  into  disrepute,  etc.,  etc. 

8.  To  decline  in  power,  wealth,  or  glory,  to  sink  into  weak 
ness,  etc.,  etc. 

26.  To  sink,  to  languish,  to  become  feeble  or  faint. 

10.  To  sink,  to  be  lowered. 

11.  To  decrease,  to  be  diminished  in  weight  or  value. 

17.  To  happen,  to  befall,  to  come. 

18.  To  light  on,  to  come  by  chance. 

20.  To  come,  to  arrive. 

21.  To  come  unexpectedly. 

27.  To  be  brought  forth. 

28.  To  issue,  to  terminate. 

24 


370 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES, 


Of  the  noun,  — r 

3.  Death,  destruction,  overthrow. 

4.  Ruin,  destruction. 

5.  Dov/nfall,  degradation,  loss  of  greatness. 

6.  Declension  of  greatness,  power,  or  dominion. 

7.  Diminution,  decrease  of  price  or  value,  depreciation,  as 
the  fall  of  prices,  the  fall  of  rents,  the  fall  of  interest. 

8.  Declination  of  sound  [whatever  that  may  be],  a sinking 
of  tone,  cadence,  as  the  fall  of  the  voice  at  the  close  of  a sen- 
tence. 

Of  run  we  find  the  following  among  the  fifty-six 
meanings  given  of  it  as  a transitive  verb : — 

3.  To  use  the  legs  in  moving,  to  step,  as  children  run  alone 
or  run  about. 

4.  To  move  in  a hurry  — The  priest  and  people  run  about. 

8.  To  contend  in  a race,  as  men  and  horses  run  for  a prize. 

13.  To  be  liquid  or  fluid. 

14.  To  be  fusible,  to  melt. 

15.  To  fuse  or  melt. 

18.  To  flow,  as  words,  language,  or  periods. 

21.  To  have  a course  or  direction. 

24.  To  have  a continued  tenor  or  course. 

29.  To  pi'oceed  in  succession. 

31.  To  proceed  in  a train  of  conduct. 

36.  To  extend,  to  lie  in  continued  length,  as  veins. 

37.  To  have  a certain  direction  — The  line  runs  east  and  west. 
46.  To  pass  or  fall  into  fault,  vice,  or  misfortune,  as  to  run 

into  vice,  to  run  into  mistakes. 

48.  To  have  a general  tendency  — Temperate^  climates  run 
into  moderate  governments. 

51.  To  creep,  as  serpents  run  on  the  ground. 

52  To  slide,  as  a sled  or  sleigh  runs  on  the  ground. 

53.  To  dart,  to  shoot,  as  a meteor  in  the  sky. 

54.  To  fly,  to  move  in  the  air,  as  the  clouds  run  from  N.  E 
to  S.  W. 

Of  rnn^  the  noun,  we  have  these  among  othei 
discriminated  meanings : — 

2.  Course,  motion,  as  the  run  of  humor. 

3.  Flow,  as  a run  of  verses  to  please  the  ear. 

4.  Course,  process,  continued  series,  as  the  run  of  events. 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


371 


Words  would  be  wasted  in  showing  the  absurdity 
of  a system  of  definitions  which  gives  such  results 
as  this  ; which  not  only  sets  forth  mere  metaphorical 
uses  of  words  as  instances  of  their  use  in  different 
senses,  but  in  the  metaphorical  use,  regards  the  ap 
plication  of  a word  in  one  sense  to  two  objects  as 
its  use  in  two  senses;  as,  for  instance,  to  fall^  to 
die  by  violence,  and,  also,  to  come  to  an  end 
suddenly;  run^  to  pass  or  fall  into  vice,  and,  also, 
to  have  a general  tendency.  Let  the  reader,  who 
wishes  to  see  to  what  lengths  this  mania  for  copious 
definition  can  lead  those  upon  whom  it  seizes,  ex- 
amine the  words  work^  turn^  free^  live^  life^  lights 
wood,  head,  make,  lay,  break,  cast,  cut,  give,  go, 
have,  heart,  heavy,  high,  hold,  fiit,  raise,  serve, 
set,  so,  stand,  take,  to,  and  almost  any  other  such 
simple  words  in  Webster’s  Dictionary.  Let  him 
turn  to  Johnson’s,  and  see  that  wooden  is  defined 
first  as  "made  of  wood,”  and  next  as  "clumsy, 
awkward,”  two  passages,  of  which  the  followihg 
is  one,  being  quoted  as  support  for  the  latter 
definition  : — 

“ When  a bold  man  is  out  of  countenance,  he  makes  a very 
wooden  figure  on’t.” 

But  wooden  does  not  here  7nean  clumsy  or  awk- 
ward ; it  only  suggests  clumsiness  and  awkward- 
ness ; and  it  verily  has  that  suggestion  in  its  power, 
because  it  means  made  of  wood,  and  means,  and 
can  mean,  nothing  else.  The  use  of  woodcut  in 
this  instance  brings  vividly  to  mind  how  like  a 
wooden  figure,  a figure-head,  a man  appears  who 
has  lost  his  self-possession.  Its  very  value  as  an  epi- 
'v  Chet  consists  in  that  it  does  not  mean  clumsy  and 


372 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


awkward.  In  the  following  passage  in  “ Robinson 
Crusoe,”  Defoe  furnishes  an  example  of  this  use  of 
the  same  word  m.ore  pertinent  than  either  of  the 
two  which  have  been  cited  in  dictionaries : — 

“ Well,  this  I conquered  by  making  a wooden  spade ; . . . . 
but  this  did  my  work  in  a wooden  manner.” 

A wooden  spade  could,  of  course,  serve  Robin- 
son Crusoe’s  needs  only  in  a wooden  manner ; but, 
saying  this  in  the  person  of  his  hero,  Defoe  also 
artfully  suggests  the  clumsy  insufficiency  of  his 
homely  tool ; and  his  meaning  is  conveyed  com- 
pletely and  impressively,  because  it  is  suggested, 
and  not  literally  told.  Defoe’s  use  of  this  word  is 
here  worthy  of  Shakespeare  himself,  who  attains 
many  of  his  happiest  reaches  of  language  in  this 
manner.  He  makes,  in  "The  Tempest,”  a like  use 
of  the  very  word  in  question,  when  Fernando, 
carrying  logs,  says,  — 

“ [I]  would  no  more  endure 
This  wooden  slavery,  than  to  suffer 
The  flesh-fly  blow  my  mouth.” 

Here  wooden  at  once  expresses  literally  the  object 
of  the  speaker’s  labor,  and  suggests  its  dull  oppres- 
siveness ; and  it  does  the  latter  at  the  ‘ will  of  the 
poet,  just  because  without  that  will  it  does  only  the 
former. 

If  we  may  say  that  wooden  means  clumsy,  awk- 
ward, dull,  oppressive,  we  may  as  well  say  that 
oak  means  courage,  because  of  the  phrase  " hearts 
of  oak,”  or  that  gold  means  innocence,  because  we 
speak  of  " the  age  of  gold,”  or  that  iron  means 
hard  or  hardness,  because  iron-hearted  is  used  in 
tlie  sense  of  hard-hearted,  unfeeling,  cruel. 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


373 


Webster  is  not  wholly  responsible  for  the  vicious 
system  of  definition  upon  which  he  labored  with 
such  Qonscientious  thoroughness.  This  system 
originated  with  Dr.  Johnson  ; and  it  is  mere  justice 
to  say  that,  although  Webster  carried  it  to  an 
extreme  which  is  both  extravagant  and  injurious, 
he  improved  upon  his  model,  and  displayed  a 
power  of  discrimination,  and  an  ability  for  the 
exact  expression  of  nice  distinctions,  much  surpass- 
ing that  of  " the  great  lexicographer.” 

Johnson’s  Dictionary  was  not  only  a work  of 
great  research  — it  was  a work  original  in  its  de- 
sign and  its  execution ; and  it  is  the  model  of  the 
great  English  dictionaries,  except  Richardson’s, 
that  have  been  since  compiled.  They  are  all 
founded  upon  Johnson’s  ; but  his  was  founded  upon 
no  other : it  was  the  result  of  a critical  examination 
of  a range  of  English  literature  wider  than  had 
ever  before  been  examined  by  one  man  for  any 
purpose.  It  was  almost  inevitable  that  a dictionary 
made  in  such  a manner  should,  with  its  great 
merits,  have  all  the  faults  by  which  those  merits 
are  counterbalanced,  and  particularly  this  one  of 
superfluous,  over-subtle,  misleading  definitions. 
Johnson  undertook  to  present  a full  vocabulary  of 
the  language  gathered  from  the  writings  of  its 
principal  authors  in  all  departments  of  literature, 
and  to  define  each  word  of  that  vocabulary  accord- 
ing to  the  various  senses  in  which  he  found  it  used. 
Considering  the  end  in  view,  the  method  adopted 
was  the  best,  if  not,  indeed,  the  only  one,  for  its 
attainment ; and  the  labor  was  gigantic.  But  it 
was  hardly  avoidable  that,  in  compiling  and  defiii- 


374 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


ing  a vocabulary  in  this  manner,  the  various  appli- 
cations of  words  used  by  various  authois  in  the 
same  sense  should  be  accepted  as  uses  of  those 
words  in  different  senses ; and  particularly  that 
various  metaphorical  applications  of  words  having 
but  one  real  meaning  should  be  discriminated  by 
different  definitions.  The  collection  of  passages 
for  the  illustration  of  definitions  would  naturally 
lead  to  this  false  distinction  of  significations.  And 
as  to  the  remainder  of  his  task,  Johnson,  although 
a scholar,  and  a thinker  of  singular  clearness  and 
force,  was  not  a philologist,  even  according  to  the 
crude  and  rudimentary  philology  of  his  day ; nor 
was  his  mind  so  constituted  as  to  fit  him  for  the 
quick  perception  of  analogies  and  the  patient 
tracing  of  verbal  vestiges  hidden  by  the  drift  of 
centuries,  which  are  necessary  to  the  successful 
prosecution  of  philological  inquiry.  The'  conse- 
quence was,  that  he  produced  a work  that  was  at 
once  very  convenient  and  very  pernicious.  I will 
not  say,  with  him  who  yet  remains  the  greatest 
philologist  that  has  made  the  English  language  his 
peculiar  study,  Horne  Tooke,  that  Johnson’s  Diction- 
ary is  a disgrace  to  the  English  people ; but  there 
seems  to  be  no  reason  for  disputing  Tooke’s  judge- 
ment, that  Johnson’s  system  was  unscientific  and 
vicious,  and  that  a dictionary  ought  to  be  made 
of  a very  different  kind  from  anything  ever  yet 
attempted  anywhere.  ("Diversions  of  Purley,”  i., 
401.)  Now,  all  that  has  since  been  done  in  tlie 
making  of  English  dictionaries  is  merely  to  build 
upon  Johnson’s  foundation,  and  to  work  on  his  plan, 
with  the  increased  materials  and  the  larger  knowl- 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


375 


edge  provided  by  the  development  of  the  language 
and  by  the  investigations  of  modern  philology. 

In  one  respect,  the  makers  of  later  dictionaries 
have  followed,  to  a monstrous  extreme,  a fashion 
set  by  Johnson  — that  of  introducing  compound 
words,  and  words  formed  from  others  simple  and 
well  known,  by  the  addition  of  the  prefixes  dis^  un, 
mis,  re,  etc.,  the  meaning  and  force  of  which  are  as 
generally  understood  as  that  of  s in  the  plural  and 
in  the  possessive  case.  The  catalogues  of  these 
words,  with  which  our  dictionaries  are  blown  up 
into  a bloated  emptiness  of  bulk,  are  an  offence 
to  the  common  sense  of  any  reader,  even  the  hum- 
blest, and  cause  him  to  pay  for  that  which  he  does 
not  need,  while  they  fill  five  times  the  room  that 
would  be  required  by  that  which  he  does  need. 
Open  almost  any  dictionary,  the  Imperial,  Web- 
ster’s, or  Worcester’s,  — but  Webster’s  is  the  most 
superfluous  and  obtrusive  in  this  respect,  because  it 
carries  to  the  furthest  extreme  the  vicious  plan 
of  vocabulary-making  and  definition  introduced  by 
Johnson, — open  it  at  random,  and  see  how  it  is 
loaded  down  with  this  worthless  lumber.  Of 
words  formed  by  joining  milh  and  some  other 
word  together,  there  are  twenty-two,  of  which 
number  are  7nilk-^ail,  milk-fan,  milk-for ridge, 
milk-seore,  milk-white.  And  yet  milk-fiineJi,  7nilk^ 
train,  and  milk-foidtice  are  omitted  ! Straw  fur- 
nishes twelve  compound  words,  so  called,  of  which 
are  strazv-color,  straw-colored  I strazv- crowned, 
straw-ciUtcr , straw-stuffed  I and  even  straw-hat  \ 
Yet  in  vain  will  Margery  Daw  look  for  straw-bed, 
or  Recorder  Hackett  seek  the  word  straw-bail. 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


37^ 

Of  words,  so  called,  made  by  the  union  of  heart 
with  another,  there  are  acutally  sixty-nine  paraded  , 
heart  itself  havin£T  sixtetm  distinct  meaninors  as- 
signed  to  it  simpl}^,  and  eleven  in  established 
phrases.  Among  these  compounded  words  are  hearts 
ache,  heart-appalling,  heart-consinning,  heart-cor^ 
roding  (why  not  heart-destroying,  and  heart-^ 
crushing  ?) , heart-expanding,  heart-shaped  (which 
we  are  informed  means  "having  the  shape  of  a 
heart”),  heart-pier cing  (which  means  "piercing 
the  heart  ”) , heart-sick  (which  means  " sick  at 
heart  ”) , heart-thrilling,  heart-whole,  and  the  like ; 
and  3^et  heai't-entrancing,  heart-entiemg,  and  heart- 
bewitching,  as  well  as  hcart-hlood,  are  omitted. 
Why?  Gentle  Webster,  tell  us  why!  Surel^^  a 
dictionaiy,  of  all  things,  should  be  "in  concatena- 
tion accordingly.” 

After  being  told  that  head,  simple  of  itself,  has 
thirty-one  distinct  meanings  (it  has  but  one  of  the 
thirty-one),  we  are  presented  with  it  in  combination 
with  other  simple  words  thirty-seven  times ; of 
which  manner  of  dictionary-making  here  are  a 
few  examples:  (which  the  inquirer  will 

learn  means  " pain  in  the  head  ”),  head-dress,  head- 
first (which  we  are  told  means  " with  the  head 
foremost.”  Wly  not  " with  the  head  first?”  that 
would  be  more  in  keeping),  headless  (of  which  we 
not  only  learn  that  it  means  "without  a head,”  but 
for  which  we  are  given  the  high  authority  of  Spen- 
ser as  warranting  us  to  say  a headless  body,  neck, 
or  carcass)  ; headstrong,  head-work,  and  head^ 
workman  also  appear.  We  find  sixty-seven  com- 
pounds of  horse,  such  as  horsc-hreaker,  horse-deal- 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


377 


pr,  horse-jlesJi^  horse-jochey ^ horse-hecfer ^ horse- 
race^ and  (important)  horse-racings  horse-shoe,^ 
horsc-stcalcrs  horsc-thicfs  and  horse-stealings  horse^ 
zvhips  horsc-whi^fed ; and  horse-whipfing  twice. 
Why  were  there  not  sixty-eight  compounds?  for 
horse-marines  alas  ! is  absent. 

Sea  is  repeated  in  combination  with  other  words 
one  hundred  and  fifty-seven  times  ! the  combined 
words  being  all  printed  at  full  length,  each  in  a line 
by  itself,  with  definitions  to  use  them  withal. 
Else,  indeed,  how  could  a man,  after  being  told 
what  sea  means,  compass  the  meaning  oi sea-banks 
sea-bars  sea-bathed s sea-breeze s sea-captain  s sea- 
coast  s sea-man s sea-rescmbling  (w’hich  means  like 
the  sea  ”)  ; sea-shells  sca-shorCs  sca-sidcs  sea-thief s 
sea-water s or  sea-weed  I And  yet,  in  defiance  of 
Cooper  and  Marry att,  and  Admiral  Farragut  and 
the  Navy  of  the  United  States  being  set  at  nought, 
sea-cook  is  not  to  be  found,  nor  yet  sea-lubber. 
Again  why?  Webster,  why?  for  you  give  us  cook 
and  give  us  lubbers  as  you  give  us  banks  and 
breezes  and  captains  and  shells  and  shore s and  sidCs 
diiid  thief  d-nd  water.  Why,  sea-captain s 

and  not  sea-cook  1 why  sea-thief s and  not  sea-lub- 
ber? We  are  told  what  ear-deaf e^iing  means s but 
are  left  in  ignorance  as  to  ear-stunning.  Tooth- 
drawer  is  deemed  worthy  of  explanation,  but  tooth- 
filler  pines  in  neglect.  Dining  having  been  de- 
fined, and  r 007ns  we  are  nevertheless  told  that  dm- 
ing-r 00771  is  a room  to  dine  in  ; and  yet  we  are 
heartlessly  left  to  our  own  resources  to  discover  the 
meaning  of  breakfast-roo7ns  breakfast-thncs  tea- 


378 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


rooni^  tca~thne^  stiff  cr-rco7n^  and  stiff  er-tmie  ; and 
although  we  are  told  what  banquet  and  what 

rooin^  and  also  (perhaps  therefore)  what  a ban- 
quet ing-t'oom  is,  and  what  a hall  is,  yet  as  to 
what  those  banquet-halls  are,  visions  of  which  float 
through  the  stilly  night,  we  are  left  to  guess  from 
the  poet’s  context,  or  to  evolve  from  the  depths  of 
our  own  moral  consciousness.  We  are  told  the 
meaning  first  of  affle^  and  then  gravely  informed 
of  that  of  affle-harvest^  of  affle-john^  affle-fio^ 
affle-sauee^  affle-tart^  and  even  of  affle-tree. 
But  we  learn  nothing  about  affle-butter^  affle- 
dunifling^  affle-ftiddmg^wdi  affle-sltimf^  as  to  two 
of  which  information  is  more  needed  than  of  any 
other  compounds  of  affle^  the  only  words  of  all 
these  compounds  which  have  properly  a place  in  a 
dictionary  being  affle-john^  affle-butter^  and  ap- 
fle-sltinif.  Thus,  and  properly,  we  have  cranberry ^ 
but  we  do  not  find  cranberry-sauce  ; currant^  but  not 
currant-jelly  ; strawberry  ^ but  not  strawbcrry-iccd- 
cream^  or  strawberry-short-cake ; short-cake  be- 
ing.  a good  example  of  the  sort  of  compound  word 
that  should  be  given  in  dictionaries.  Perhaps  the 
most  audacious  of  all  these  presentations  of  simple 
words  in  couples  as  words  with  individual  claims  to 
places  in  an  English  vocabulary,  is  the  array  in 
which  sclf\^  shown  in  conjunction  with  some  noun, 
adjective,  or  participle.  Of  these  there  are  actually 
in  Webster’s  Dictionary  one  hundred  and  ninety- 
six.  Not  one,  of  all  this  number,  from  the  first, 
self-abased^  to  the  midmost,  self-denial^  and  the 
last,  self-wrongs  has  a right  to  a place  in  an  Eng- 
lish  dictionary  ; for  in  every  case  seifs  in  the  simple 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


379 


primitive  sense  it  always  preserves,  is  a mere  adjec- 
tive, qualifying  the  word  that  follows  it ; and  there 
is  no  reason  why,  if  the  combinations  thus  detailed 
should  appear  in  a dictionary,  all  other  possible  com- 
binations of  56^^should  not  also  be  presented.  The 
list  is  either  entirely  superfluous  or  very  defective. 
In  fact,  such  an  array  is  an  affront  to  the  under- 
standing of  English-speaking  people. 

But  what  need  of  the  further  working  of  a mine 
of  absurdity  so  rich  that  its  product  is  not  worth 
taking  out,  and  so  homogeneous  that  one  specimen 
is  just  like  another?  Let  the  reader  turn  the  pages 
himself,  and  think  as  he  turns.  Besides  such  com- 
pounds as  those  just  cited,  let  him  remark  the  ar- 
ray of  words  joined  to  the  common  adverbs  and 
adjectives  that  come  correctly  from  the  lips  of  the 
most  ignorant  man  a hundred  times  daily.  Of 
ever^  thirty-four.  (Why  not  three  hundred  and 
forty?)  Ever-active  is  present,  and  ever-silcnt^ 
absent:  we  have  ever-living^  but  why  not  ever- 
riinnmgl  Of  out^  over,  less,  after,  eoiinter^  all, 
haek,  free,  foot,  fore,  high,  and  the  like,  the  com- 
pounds swarm  upon  the  page.  Finally,  let  him, 
not  inspect,  but  take  a bird’s-eye  view  (for  life  is 
short)  of  the  hordes  that  troop  under  the  standard.s 
of  dis,  and  niis,  and  in,  and  inter,  and  nn,  and  re, 
and  suh,  and  ex,  and  the  like,  not  one  in  a hundred 
of  which  has  any  more  right  to  a place  in  a dic- 
tionary than  one  man  has  to  enlist  under  two 
names  and  draw  two  rations;  or  than  a Fenian 
has  to  stir  up  insurrection  in  Ireland  as  an  Irish- 
man, and  to  vote  (twice)  in  New  York  as  what 
he  calls  an  " American  citizen.”  Upon  fjiis  point 


SSo 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Johnson’s  successors  have  bettered  his  instructions 
with  a vengeance  ; for  they  have  more  than  dou- 
bled his  array  of  words  with  particle  prefixes. 
Rather,  they  have  bettered  Johnson’s  practice,  and 
set  at  naught  his  instructions.  For  on  this  point 
he  taught  much  more  wisely  than  he  practised.  It 
is  one  upon  which  a few  examples  will  serve  our 
purpose.  For  instance,  agree ^ agreeable^  appear ^ 
afprove^  arm^  being  given  in  a dictionaiy,  upon 
what  supposition  or  pretence  of  need  can  disagree^ 
disagreeable^  disaffear^  disaffrove^  and  disarm 
be  given?  M^e  are  properly  told  all  about  trust ; 
and  could  there  be  a better  reason  why  not  a word 
is  needed  upon  distrust  ? And  yet  we  have,  in  all 
such  cases,  not  only  the  simple  word,  and  also  the 
simple  word  with  the  prefix,  but  all  the  inflections 
and  derivatives  of  both : trusty  trusted,  truster, 
trustful,  trustfully,  trustfulness,  trustily,  trusti- 
ness, trusting,  and  trustingly , and  then  soberly  dis- 
trust, distrusted,  distruster,  distrustful,  distrust- 
fully, distrustfulness,  distrustily , distrustiness, 
distrusting,  and  distrustingly.  In  like  manner  are 
paraded  the  combinations  of  all  the  other  particle 
prefixes.  Of  words  compounded  with  Johnson 
gave  637,  Webster  gives  1334;  words  com- 
uounded  with  Johnson  gave  1864, Webster  gives 
3935  ; these  two  prefixes  heading  a catalogue  of 
more  than  5000  words,  so  called,  and  such  com- 
pounds as  unwitty,  unsoft,  and  unsuit,  going  to 
make  up  the  multitude.*  In  Webster’s  Dictionary, 


♦ The  counting  for  this  statement,  and  some  others  in  this  cliapter,  was  carefully 
made  for  me  by  one  whom  I have  learned  to  rely  upon  ; and  although  it  may  be  nc^ 
exactly  correct,  I am  sure  that  it  is  uearly  enough  so  for  our  purpose. 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES.  38I 

the  Imperial,  and  Worcester’s,  compounds  like 
those  previously  noticed  comprise  one  tenth  of  the 
vocabulary,  from  which,  nevertheless,  words  used 
by  English  authors  of  repute,  and  by  English^ 
speaking  people  the  world  over,  are  omitted.  If 
we  did  not  know  by  what  contrivances  dictionaries 
are  sold,  and  how  thoughtlessly  they  are  bought 
and  consulted,  we  might  well  wonder  that  books 
thus  made  up  had  not  long  ago  been  scouted  out 
of  use  and  out  of  sight.  Here  is  page  after  page, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  book  to  the  end,  filled 
with  matter  that  is  worse  than  worthless,  the  very 
presence  of  which  is  an  affront  to  the  common 
sense  of  common  people.  For  no  man  who  has 
intelligence  enough  and  knowledge  enough  to  need 
a dictionary  at  all,  or  to  know  what  one  is,  requires 
one  in  which  arm  and  disarm^  armed  dixvdi  unarmed^ 
take  and  retake ^<hent  and  unbent^  bind  and  unbind^ 
and  the  like  pairs,  are  both  given.  To  say  the 
least,  the  latter  are  mere  superfluity,  cumbering  the 
pages  on  which  they  appear.  And  yet  it  is  largely 
by  the  insertion  of  compound,  or  rather  of  double 
words  (for  they  are  few  of  them  really  compound- 
ed), like  dining-room,  heart-consuming,  and  tooth- 
drawer,  and  of  words  with  particle  prefixes,  that 
dictionary-makers  sustain  their  boasts  that  their 
books  contain  so  many  more  thousand  words  than 
those  of  their  predecessors,  or  than  their  own  of 
previous  editions.  Dictionaries  made  in  this  man- 
ner are  the  merest  catalogues  of  all  possible  ver- 
bal and  syllabic  combinations,  — notably  and  neces- 
sarily incomplete  catalogues,  too , for  there  is  no 
end  to  word-making  of  this  kind.  The  compound- 


382 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


ing  of  the  words  already  in  the  language  may  go 
on  ad  inJiniUmi^  and  on  such  a plan  of  lexicogra- 
phy the  introduction  of  a new  verb  or  noun  would 
have  consequences  too  numerous,  if  not  too  serious, 
to  mention.* 

Another  way  of  increasing  the  bulk,  impairing  • 
the  worth,  and  diminishing  the  convenience  of  dic- 
tionaries, is  the  hauling  into  them  — as  with  a drag- 
net— of  all  the  technical  words  that  can  be  cap- 
tured. Johnson  began  this  vicious  practice.  In 
his  work  we  find  polysyndeton,  ecfhractick,  strice, 
zocle,  quadriphy lions , and  many  of  like  sort.  His 
successors  and  imitators  have  improved  upon  him  — 
Webster,  as  usual,  far  outdoing  all.  " His  Dic- 
tionary,” — as  Archbishop  Trench  remarks,  " while 
it  is  scanted  of  the  'barest  necessaries  which  such 
a work  ought  to  possess,  affords,  in  about  a page 
and  a half,  the  following  choice  additions  to  the 
English  language  ; zeolitiforni,  zinkiferous,  zinky, 
zoophytological,  zuniosimetcr , zygodactylous,  zy- 
gomatic, wdth  some  twenty  more.”  Thus  far 
Trench.  But  it  should  be  added  that  such  w^ords 
as  these,  and  those  given  from  Johnson,  are  no 
part  of  the  English  language.  Theybelong  to  no 
language.  They  are  a part  of  the  terminology 


* “Again,  there  is  a defect  of  true  insight  into  what  are  the  proper  bounds  and 
limits  of  a dictionary,  in  the  admission  into  it  of  the  innumerable  family  of  com- 
pound epithets,  such  as  cloud-cafiped,  heaveti-sahithtg,  Jloivcr-enivoveti,  and  the 
tke.  . . . Here  is,  in  a great  part,  an  explanation  of  the  twenty  thousand  words  which 
he  [Webster]  boasts  are  to  be  found  in  his  pages,  over  and  above  those  included  in 
the  latest  edition  of  Todd.  Admitting  these  transient  combinations  as  though  they 
were  really  new  words,  it  would  have  been  easy  to  have  increased  his  twenty  thou- 
sand by  twenty  thousand  more. 

“ Richardson  very  properly  excludes  all  these  : where  he  errs,  it 'is,  perhaps,  in  tha 
opposite  extreme,  in  neglecting  some  true  and  permanent  coalitions.”  — Trench. 
“ On  Some  Deficiencies  in  our  English  Dictionaries." 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


SS,'? 


common  to  science  and  to  scientific  men  of  all 
tongues  and  nations.  When  technical  words,  like 
zenith  and  nadir ^ have  passed  from  technical  into 
general  use,  they  may  claim  a place  in  an  English 
dictionary,  but  not  before. 

I have  spoken  of  the  book  called  ” Webster’s 
American  Dictionary  ” in  terms  that  are  not  applied 
to  a thing  that  is  a model  of  its  kind.  But  as 
I have  already  said,  in  its  present  form,  its  objec- 
tionable traits  are  due  merely  to  the  fact  that  in  it 
a radically  vicious  plan  is  followed  to  an  absurd  ex- 
treme. Whatever  was  once  peculiar  to  a book  bear- 
ing its  title  was  bad  in  itself  and  pernicious  in  its 
effects.  But  as  the  years  have  gone  on  during 
which  the  book  has  been  forced  into  use  by  busi- 
ness combinations  of  publishers  and  printers, 
adroitly  and  ceaselessly  employed,  it  has  been 
modified,  piece  by  piece,  here  and  there,  and  al- 
ways in  its  characteristic  features,  until  now  those 
features  have  altogether  disappeared.  As  it  laid 
aside  its  peculiar  traits  it  ceased  to  have  peculiar 
faults  ; its  offensiveness  passed  away  with  its  indi- 
•/iduality.  When  it  was  Webster’s,  and  was  " Amer- 
ican,” it  was  a book  to  laugh  at  and  be  ashamed  of; 
but  now,  having,  by  the  protracted  labors  of  able 
scholars  in  both  hemispheres,  been  purged  of  its 
singularities  in  orthography  and  etymology,  and 
partly  in  definition,  and  having  ceased  to  be  Web- 
ster’s (except  in  regard  to  definitions)  and  Amer- 
ican (except  as  to  the  place  of  its  publication) , it 
has  become  as  convenient  and  trustworthy  a com- 
pilation of  its  kind  as  any  other  now  before  the 
public.  For  between  such  dictionaries  asWorcesi- 


384  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

ter’s,  the  Imperial,  and  Webster’s  in  the  last  edition, 
there  is  not  a choice  worth  the  toss  of  a copper. 
In  their  labor-saving,  thought-lulling  convenience, 
as  in  their  serious  faults,  their  many  and  grave  de- 
ficiencies, and  their  needless,  inconvenient,  and 
costly  cumbrousness,  they  are  alike. 

It  is  always  easier  to  criticise,  and  particular!}/  to 
find  fault,  than  to  make  or  to  plan  that  which  will 
bear  criticism.  Yet  we  all  must  criticise,  and  we 
all  do  find  fault,  from  our  uprising  to  our  down- 
lying,  from  birth  to  death,  or  else  what  is  bad  would 
never  be  good,  and  what  is  good  would  never  be 
better.  Nor  is  it  necessary  that  we  should  be  able 
to  cook  our  dinners,  to  make  our  clothes,  or  to  com- 
pile, or  even  plan,  our  dictionaries,  that  we  should 
know  and  declare  whether  they  are  well  cooked, 
made,  or  planned.  As  to  a dictionary,  I will  ven- 
ture to  sketch  the  plan  of  one ; such  a one*  as  has 
not  been  made',  and  as  I presume  to  hope  Horne 
I’ooke  had  in  mind  when  he  wrote  the  passage 
which  I have  quoted. 

A dictionary,  or  better,  a word-book,  made  for 
the  use  of  those  to  whom  its  language  is  vernacu- 
lar, should  be  very  different  in  its  vocabulary  and 
in  its  definitions  from  the  lexicon  of  a foreign 
tongue.  So  a grammar  written  for  the  use  of  those 
born  to  its  language -subject,  should  omit  countless 
items,  great  and  small,  that  must  be  carefully  set 
forth  for  the  instruction  of  foreigners.  But  one 
great  vice  of  our  dictionaries,  as  of  our  grammars, 
is,  that  they  are  planned  and  written  as  if  for  men 
who  know  nothing  of  their  own  language ; the  fact 
being  that  the  most  ignorant  of  those  who  take  ujr 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


385 


dictionary  and  grammar  have  a ki  owledge  of 
their  mother  tongue  that  a life’s  study  of  both  books 
can  neither  give  nor  take  away.  In  making  a lex- 
icon of  a foreign  tongue,  it  must  be  assumed  that 
the  person  consulting  it  is  ignorant  of  the  combi- 
nations, the  idioms,  the  inflections,  contractions,  and 
all  the  minute  variations  of  its  simple  words,  which 
are  matters  of  the  earliest  knowledge  to  those  to 
whom  the  language  is  vernacular.  This  difference 
between  what  is  needed  in  a vernacular  word-book 
and  a foreign  lexicon  being  constantly  borne  in 
mind,  the  first  end  sought  in  making  a dictionary 
should  be  the  inclusion  of  all  simple  English  words 
used  by  writers  of  repute  since  the  formation  of  the 
language,  at  about  A.  D.  1250,  beginning  with  the 
works  of  Wyclifle,  Chaucer,  and  Gower.  The 
omission  of  any  such  word  would  be  a defect  in  the 
dictionary.  The  plea  of  obsoleteness  is  no  justifi- 
cation for  such  an  omission.  There  is  no  obsolete- 
ness in  literature."^  The  old,  irregular  orthography 
is  not  to  be  followed,  nor  need  the  old  inflections 
be  given  ; but  a professed  dictionary  of  the  English 
language  which  does  not  contain  all  the  simple 
words  and  their  compounds  of  deflected  meaning, 

* “In  regard  of  obsolete  words,  our  dictionaries  have  no  certain  rule  of  admission 
or  exclusion.  But  how,  it  may  be  asked,  ought  they  to  hold  themselves  in  regard 
of  these?  This  question  has  been  already  implicitly  answered  in  what  was  just  said 
regarding  the  all-comprehensive  character  which  belongs  to  them.  There  are  some, 
indeed,  who,  taking  up  a position  a little  different  from  theirs  who  would  have  them 
contain  only  the  standard  words  of  the  language,  yet  proceeding  on  the  same  iivid- 
equate  view  of  their  object  and  intention,  count  that  they  should  aim  at  presenting 
the  body  of  the  language  as  now  existing  ; this  and  no  more ; leaving  to  archaic 
glossaries  the  gathering  in  of  words  that  are  current  no  longer.  But  a little  reflec- 
tion wi;l  show  how  untenable  is  this  position  ; how  this  rule,  consistently  carried  out, 
would  deprive  a dictionary  of  a large  part  of  its  usefulness.  . . . 

“ It  is  quite  impossible,  with  any  consistency,  to  make  a stand  anywhere,  or  to 
admit  any  words  now  obsolete  without  including,  or  at  least  attempting  to  include 
alL”  — Trench,  “ Oh  De/iciencks,^'  etc. 

25 


386 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


which  are  used  by  an  English  poet  of  such  emi- 
nence as  Chaucer,  is  not  what  its  name  pretends 
it  to  be.  The  addition  of  such  of  these  words  as 
are  now  omitted  from  our  dictionaries  would  not  in- 
crease their  bulk  appreciably,  as  may  be  seen  by  an 
examination  of  the  glossaries  to  our  authors  from 
Chaucer  to  Spenser.  And  besides,  it  is  to  be  remem- 
bered that  the  voluminousness  of  the  dictionary, 
as  it  is  at  present  known  to  us,  is  to  be  abated 
materially  by  the  next  provision  of  our  plan, which  is, 
that  of  compound  or  double  words  and  words  formed 
by  particle  prefixes  only  those  have  a proper  place 
in  a dictionary  in  which  (i)  the  combination  has 
acquired  a meaning  different  from  that  of  the  mere 
union  of  its  elements,  or  (2)  one  of  the  elements  is 
known,  or  used,  only  in  combination.  Thus,  if 
disease  had  continued  to  mean  only  dis  and  ease^ 
or  the  negation  of  ease,  as  it  does  in  the  following 
lines  from  Chaucer’s  " Troilus  and  Creseide,”  — 

“And  therewithal!  Creseide  anon  he  kist, 

Of  whiche  certain  she  felt  no  disease,”  — 

there  would  be  no  need  of  it  in  an  English  die* 
tionary  made  for  men  to  whom  English  is  their 
mother-tongue.  But  it  has  acquired  a modified 
and  an  additional  meaning,  and  therefore  should  be 
given  as  a distinct  word.  So  should  disable^  be- 
cause able  is  unknown  as  a verb ; and,  for  a like 
reason,  Howell’s  dister  (Letters,  Book  I.,  Sec.  3, 
Letter  32)  ; but  in  an  English  dictionary  in  which 
inter  appears,  disinter  has  no  proper  place.  So 
breakfast^  having  come  to  mean  sorcething  less,  or 
more,  or  other  than  the  mere  breaking  of  fast,  must 
be  given.  But  to  give  breakjast-room,  or  dining- 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


3^7 


r 007)1  i is  as  absurd  as  to  giYQ  joint-stock-company , 
which  Webster  does;  and  why  joint-stock-company - 
limited  should  not  as  well  be  given,  it  would  be'  as 
difficult  to  discover,  as  why  we  are  instructed  upon 
Jiddlc-string  and  Jiddle-stick^  but  are  left  in  our 
native  ignorance  as  to  Jiddle-how^  and  in  utter  dark- 
ness upon  the  subject  of  the  fitting  tail-piece  of 
this  list  — jiddl e-stick^ s-end.  Words  like  after- 
thought^ cou7iter-aet ^ and  im-sound  have  no  place 
in  a dictionary,  except,  perhaps,  in  a list  of  com- 
pounds under  after ^ eounter^  and  un  ; but  words 
like  aftermath^  cou7iterfeit^  and  uneonth^  in  which 
one  element  is  known  only  in  composition,  should 
of  course  be  defined.  Double  words,  like  blaek- 
smith  and  white-sinith^  in  which  one  of  the  ele- 
ments has  a deflected  or  perverted  signification, 
should  be  given ; but  what  good  end,  for  any  hu- 
man creature  with  wit  enough  to  find  a word  in  a 
dictionary,  is  gained  by  giving  such  double  words 
as  silver-sfnith,  gold-sinith^  eopper-sniith  ? 

Nor  does  vulgarity  more  than  obsoleteness  justify 
ffie  omission  of  any  English  word.  Dictionaries  are 
mere  books  of  reference,  made  to  be  consulted,  not 
to  be  read.  In  the  bear-baiting  days  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  it  might  be  said,  without  offence  of  n 
vile,  dull  man,  that  he  was  ”not  fit  to  carry  guts  to 
a bear.”  Nowadays  a man  who  used,  in  general 
society,  the  simple  English  word  for  which  some 
New  England  ''females”  elegantly  substitute  m- 
'ards^  would  shock  many  of  his  hearers.  But  this 
is  no  good  reason  for  the  omission  of  the  word  from 
a dictionary.  Through  mere  squeamishness,  words, 
once  in  general  use,  are  shunned  more  and  more, 


/ 


388  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

until  at  last  they  are  regarded  as  gross  and  low, 
when  the  things  and  thoughts  of  which  they  are  the 
mere  names  are,  and  always  must  remain,  on  the 
same  level.  If  need  be,  no  one  hesitates  now  to 
speak  of  intestines.  Horne  Tooke  has  well  said, 
^Ht  is  the  object  for  which  words  are  used  and  the 
manner  of  their  use  that  give  that  use  its  character 
and  also  that  what  are  called  vulgar  words  are  "the 
oldest  and  best  authorized,  the  most  significant  and 
widely-used  words  in  the  language.”  No  man  need 
use  them  or  seek  them  in  a dictionary  unless  he 
chooses  to  do  so.* 

Although  words  obsolete  in  the  speech  of  the 
day  should  be  given,  provincial  words  are  out  of 
place  in  a dictionary  of  standard  and  established 
English.! 

Proper  names  are  no  part  of  language ; and 
whether  words  formed  upon  proper  names,  such  as 
Mohammedanism,  Mormonism,  Swedenborgian, 
have  claim  to  recognition  as  a part  of  the  English  lan- 
guage is  at  least  very  doubtful.  Their  inclusion  in  a 
dictionary  might  be  defended  on  the  ground  that  it 
would  be  convenient  to  have  them  there  ; but  on  the 

* “ A dictionary,  then,  according  to  that  idea  of  it  which  seems  to  me  alone  capa- 
ble of  being  logically  maintained,  is  an  inventory  of  the  language ; much  more  in- 
deed, but  this  primarily  ; and  with  this  only  at  present  we  will  deal.  It  is  no  task 
of  the  maker  of  it  to  select  the  good  words  of  language.  If  he  fancies  that  it  is  so, 
and  begins  to  pick  and  choose,  to  leave  this,  and  to  take  that,  he  will  at  once  go 
astray.  The  business  which  he  has  undertaken  is  to  collect  and  arrange  all  words, 
whether  good  or  bad,  whether  they  commend  themselves  to  his  judgement  or  other- 
wise, which,  with  certain  exceptions  hereafter  to  be  specified,  those  writing  in  the 
language  have  employed.  He  is  an  historian  of  it,  not  a critic.”  — Trench. 

Some  Dejiciencies,"  etc. 

t “ Let  n'.e  observe  here,  that  provincial  or  local  words  stand  on  quite  a different 
footing  from  obsolete.  We  do  not  complain  of  their  omission.  In  my  judgement, 
we  should,  on  the  contrary,  have  a right  to  complain  if  they  were  admitted  ; and  it 
is  an  oversight  that  some  of  our  dictionaries  occasionally  find  room  for  them,  in 
their  avowed  character  of  provincial  words  ; when,  indeed,  as  such,  they  have  no 
right  to  a place  in  a dictionary  of  the  English  tongue.”  — Trench,  ''On  Sonu 
DeficicncUs''  etc. 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES. 


389 


same  grounds  a chronological  table,  a list  of  post- 
ofhces,  or  the  best  recipes  for  curing  corns,  might 
well  be  given.  A dictionary  of  the  English  language 
is  not  an  encyclopaedia  of  useful  information."^ 

Definitions,  unless  we  would  have  them  sprout 
into  the  multitudinous  absurdities  which  have  been 
already  held  up  to  the  light  in  this  chapter,  must  be 
formed  upon  the  principle,  which  is  axiomatic  in 
language,  that  a word  can  have  but  one  real  mean- 
ing. Of  this,  all  others  — the  all  being  few  — are 
subsidiary  modifications ; and  of  this  meaning,  the 
metaphorical  applications  being  numberless,  un- 
ascertainable,  dependent  upon  the  will  and  the  taste 
of  every  writer  and  speaker  in  the  language,  have 
no  proper  place  in  a dictionary.  This  renders  quo- 
tation in  support  of  definition  generally  superfluous. 
The  maker  of  a dictionary  for  general  use,  i.  e.,  a 
hand  word-book,  is  not  called  upon  to  give  a brief 
history  and  epitome  of  his  language,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  illuminating  his  pages  or  of  justifying  his 
vocabulary. 

Figures,  diagrams,  and  the  like  (first  used,  not 

in  this  country,  but  in  England  by  Bailey),  are  not 

only  superfluous  in  a dictionary,  but  pernicious. 

Language  is  the  subject-matter  of  a dictionary ; its 

function  is  to  explain  words,  not  to  describe  things. 

The  introduction  of  a fia'ure  or  a diagram  is  a con- 
fer o 


* “ It  is  strar.ge  that  Johnson’s  strong  common  sense  did  not  save  him  from  falling 
into  this  error  ; but  it  has  not.  He  might  well  have  spared  us  thirteen  closely  printed 
lines  on  an  opal,  nineteen  on  a rose,  twenty-one  on  the  almug-tree,  as  many  on  the 
air-pump,  not  fewer  on  the  natural  history  of  the  armadillo,  and  rather  more  than 
sixty  on  the  pear.  All  this  is  repeated  by  Todd,  and  in  an  exaggerated  form  by 
Webster,  from  whom,  for  instance,  we  may  learn  of  the  camel,  that  it  constitutes  the 
riches  of  the  Arabian,  that  it  can  sustain  abstinence  from  drink  for  many  days,  and  ic 
sll,  twenty-five  lines  of  its  natural  history.”  — Trench,  “ On  Some  Dejiciencies,"  rtc, 


390  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

9 

fession  of  an  inability  which  does  not  exist.  The 
pictorial  illustrations  with  which  dictionaries  have 
lately  been  so  copiously  defaced,  merely  to  catch 
the  unthinking  eye,  are  entirely  out  of  place.  They 
pertain  to  encyclopaedias.  And,  indeed,  the  dic- 
tionaries of  the  last  crop,  such  as  the  Imperial, 
Worcester’s,  and  the  so-called  Webster’s,  are  too 
much  like  encyclopaedias  to  be  dictionaries,  and  too 
much  like  dictionaries  to  be  encyclopaedias.  Their 
pictures  are  as  much  in  place  as  a fall  of  real  water 
would  be  in  a painting  of  Niagara ; which,  doubt- 
less, would  also  be  pronounced  “ a very  popular 
feature.” 

In  giving  the  etymology  of  an  English  word  it 
is  not  necessary,  and  is  rarely  proper,  to  trace  it 
beyond  the  Anglo-Saxon,  Norman-French,  Latin, 
Greek,  or  other  word  from  which  it  is  directly  de- 
rived. A dictionary  is  a word-book  of  reference, 
not  a treatise  on  general  philology.  To  what  pur- 
pose is  it  that  a man  who  consults  a dictionary  for 
the  meaning,  the  form,  or  the  sound  of  a word  in 
the  English  language,  is  informed  that  before  the 
existence  of  his  language,  or  since,  a word  with 
which  the  object  of  his  search  has  possibly  some 
remote  connection,  had,  or  has,  in  another  language, 
the  same,  a like,  or  a different  meaning?  Whether 
the  word  should  be  traced  from  its  primitive  mean- 
ing down  to  that  which  it  has  in  present  usage,  or 
from  the  present  usage  (which  is  that  for  which  a 
dictionary  is  chiefly  consulted)  up  to  its  primitive 
meaning,  is  not  quite  clear.  The  latter  arrange- 
ment seems  to  be  the  more  natural  and  logical. 

In  orthography  the  usage  of  the  best  writers, 
modified,  if  at  all,  by  a leaning  toward  analogy,  is 


ENGLISH  DICTIONARIES.  • 39I 

the  only  guide  to  authoritative  usefulness,  as  even 
the  publishers  of  Webster’s  Dictionary  have  at  last 
been  obliged  in  practice  to  admit. 

In  pronunciation  the  usage  of  the  most  cultivated 
people  of  English 'blood  and  speech  is  cibsolute,  as 
far  as  their  usage  itself  is  fixed.  But  the  least  val- 
uable part  of  a dictionary  is  that  which  is  given 
to  orthoepy.  Pronunciation  is  the  most  arbitrary, 
varying,  and  evanescent  trait  of  language  ; and  it  is 
so  exceedingly  difficult  to  express  sound  by  written 
characters,  that  to  convey  it  upon  paper  with  cer- 
tainty in  one  neighborhood  for  ten  years,  and  to 
the  world  at  large  for  one  year,  is  practically  im- 
possible.* 

Upon  the  plan  thus  lightly  sketched,  an  English 
dictionary  might  be  made  which  would  give  a vo- 
cabulary of  the  language  from  its  formation,  with 
full  and  exact  definitions,  etymology,  and  pronun- 
ciation, and  which  yet  would  be  a convenient  hand- 
book, in  clear  typography,  and  which  could  be  sold 
at  half  the  price  now  paid  for  ” the  best,”  whichever 
that  may  be. 

* With  the  request  that  I should  give  some  attention  to  the  subject  of  elocution  — a 
request  made  chiefly  by  readers  who  seem  to  suffer  under  the  stated  preaching  of  the 
gospel  — I cannot  comply.  According  to  my  observation,  elocution  cannot  be  taught ; 
and  systems  of  elocution  are  as  much  in  vain  as  the  physicians  immortalized  on  the 
gravestone  that  fascinated  the  young  eyes  of  David  Copperfield.  The  ability  to 
speak  with  grace  and  force  is  a gift  of  nature  that  may  be  improved  by  exercise  and 
observation,  but  very  little,  if  at  all,  by  instruction.  What  can  be  p'oStably  said 
upon  this  subject  has  been  well  said  by  Mr.  Gould  in  his  book  “ Good  Erglish,” 


392 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USE^^i 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

“JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.” 

’TTT'ALKING  down  the  Bowery  one  morning  of 
V V last  spring,  I met  a lad  who  took  a paper 
from  a package  that  he  carried  and  thrust  it  into  my 
unwilling  hand,  I suspected  him  of  having  lain  in 
wait  for  the  purpose ; for  on  looking  at  the  paper  I 
found  on  it  a printed  announcement  in  these  words: 

Being  about  to  inaugurate  my  Sample  Room  at  No.  — Bowery 
on  the  1 6th  instant,  I invite  my  friends  to  be  present  at  a Free  Lunch 
on  that  occasion.  ^ 

N.  B — Liquors  and  everything  first  class. 

A—  B— . 

It  is  probable  that  neither  this  young  gentleman 
nor  his  employer  had  given  his  days  and  nights  to 
the  perusal  of  the  first  edition  of  a certain  book, 
which  need  not  be  named  upon  this  page,  or  they 
would  not  have  singled  out  its  author  for  the  unex- 
pected honor  of  an  invitation  to  the  inauguration  of 
a “ sample-room.’’  And  yet  possibly,  even  in  that 
case,  they,  knowing  the  proverbial  impecuniosity  of 
literary  men,  might  have  supposed  that,  considering 
the  tempting  terms  on  which  entertainment  was 
proffered,  I might  be  induced  to  be  present  on  that 
occasion.  However  that  might  be,  I .did  not  scorn 
the  invitation,  but,  for  purposes  of  my  own  which 
have  taken  me  to  places  even  less  to  my  liking  than 


393 


“JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.” 

a “ sample-room,”  on  the  appointed  day  I was  pres- 
ent at  the  inaugural  ceremonies,  which  I observed 
were  of  a very  interesting  nature  to  those  who  took 
part  in  them.  I will  confess,  too,  as  Doctor  Johnson 
once  did,  that  at  the  early  hour  at  which  I made  my 
visit  I was  impransits ; but  how  much  I ate  and  drank, 
I shall  never  tell ; and  as  to  how  many  brethren  of  my 
craft  were  also  present,  I shall  ever  preserve  a discreet 
silence.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  reveal  to  a curious  and 
unsympathizing  world  how  the  priests  of  literature 
eke  out  their  scanty  means,  and  supply  the  wants  of 
nature  from  the  deodands  of  such  inaugural  sacrifices. 

I remained  long  enough  to  discover  that,  whether 
the  liquors  were  first-class  or  not,  the  language  was. 
Among  the  choice  morsels  with  which  I was  regaled 
was  the  remark  of  a gentleman  with  a pallid  face, 
and  a heavy  mustache  very  black  in  the  mass  and 
very  red  just  at  the  roots,  who  wore,  a dirty  shirt  con- 
fined by  a brilliant  pin  worth  at  least  five  thousand 
dollars.  Evidently  disgusted  with  either  the  quality 
or  the  quantity  of  his  entertainment,  he  said  as  he 
swaggered  out,  “ Blessid  is  them  wot  don’t  expect 
nawthin’ ; for  them’s  the  ones  wot  won’t  git  dis- 
appointed.” Another  gentleman,  who  as  plainly  was 
better  pleased  with  his  luncheon,  replying  for  him- 
self and  a companion  to  an  inquiry  as  to  how  he  had 
fared,  said,  “ Other  fellers  goes  in  for  the  fried  liver, 
but  me  and  him  comes  down  orful  on  the  corn  beef.” 
I was  not  surprised  to  hear  another  free-luncher  as* 
sert  with  emphasis  that  his  host  was  a perfect  gentle- 
man, and  that  he  wished  he  would  inaugurate  every 
day.  Soon  after  which  I departed,  no  less  pleased 
with  my  entertainment  than  he  with  his ! I had 
17* 


394 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


gotten  all  I came  for ; and  at  how  many  receptions, 
at  which  luncheon  is  also  free  (although  that,  of 
course,  is  never  thought  of),  can  a man  say  as  much 
as  he  goes  away,  leaving  ‘‘society”  behind  him? 

Now,  if  the  first  mentioned  of  my  convives  had 
uttered  his  apophthegm  in  the  form,  Blessed  are  they 
who  expect  nothing,  for  they  will  not  be  disap- 
pointed, and  if  the  other  had  said.  He  and  I come 
down  awfully  on  the  corned  beef,  and  the  remainder 
of  the  company  had  discoursed  in  like  manner,  I 
confess  that  the  entertainment  would  have  lacked  for 
me  the  seasoning  that  gave  it  all  its  savor.  Their 
talk  afforded  me  the  enjoyment  of  an  inward  laugh. 
But  why  was  it  so  ridiculous?  Merely  because 
it  was  at  variance  with  cultivated  usage  ? I 
think  not.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  amusing  element 
in  such  a use  of  language  is  absurdity — the  absurd- 
ity which  is  the  consequence  of  incongruity.  Their 
meaning  was  as  unmistakable  as  if  their  sentences 
had  been  constructed  by  a pedagogue  ; but  with  this 
intelligibility  there  was  a confusion  due  to  the 
heterogeneous  incongruity  of  the  words  with  their 
position  and  their  real  significance.  The  combina- 
tion of  singular  verbs  with  plural  nouns,  the  use  of 
words  expressing  an  object  in  the  place  of  those 
which  express  a subject,  of  those  which  express  the 
quality  of  a thing  to  tell  the  manner  of  an  act — this 
incongruity  was  the  cause  of  the  laughable  absurdity. 
To  a certain  extent,  indeed,  the  violation  of  usage 
was  at  the  bottom  of  this  absurdity;  for  if  usage  had 
not  made  the  verb  is  singular,  and  the  pronoun  them 
objective,  the  word  awful  expressive  of  quality,  and 
corn  a substantive,  and  so  forth,  there  would  have 


395 


‘‘JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.” 

been  no  incongruity.  But  here  the  point  to  be  ob- 
served is,  that  usage  does  not  act  arbitrarily.  It  is 
guided,  almost  governed,  by  a union  of  the  forces  of 
precedent  and  reason. 

Within  certain  limits  usage  has  absolute  author- 
ity in  language.  To  assert  this  is  not  to  lay  down  a 
law,  or  to  set  up  a standard,  but  merely  to  recognize 
a fact.  For  as  the  only  use  of  language,  outside  of 
Talleyrandic  diplomacy,  is  to  express,  and  not  to 
conceal,  our  ideas,  and  as  language  which  does  not 
conform  to  the  general  usage  of  those  to  whom  it  is 
addressed  cannot  convey  to  them  the  meaning  of  the 
speaker  or  of  the  writer,  such  language  fails  to  fulfil 
the  first,  if  not  the  only,  condition  of  its  being.  It  has 
been  said  that  the  usage  which  controls  language  is 
that  of  great  writers  and  cultivated  speakers.  To  a 
certain  extent  this  is  true ; but  it  is  not  true  with- 
out important  qualification.  For  the  very  necessity 
A^hich  controls  communication  by  words,  that  is,  the 
making  of  a thought  common  to  the  speaker  and  the 
hearer  by  means  of  a medium  which  has  a common 
value  to  both,  is  binding  upon  the  great  writers  and 
the  cultivated  speakers  themselves.  A man  who 
uses  words  that  are  unknown,  or  familiar  words  in 
senses  that  are  strange,  or  who,  using  familiar  words 
in  acjsepted  senses,  puts  them  together  in  an  inco- 
herent succession,  which  jars  and  interrupts  rather 
than  easily  leads  the  train  of  thought,  will  fail  to 
convey  his  meaning,  whatever  may  be  his  mental 
gifts  or  his  culture.  Ideas  and  facts  may  be  new  or 
strange ; but  the  language  in  which  they  are  uttered 
must  be  old  in  fact  or  familiar  in  form,  or  they  can- 
not be  imparted. 


396  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

This  is  so  manifestly  true  as  to  be  almost  truism  y-' 
and  yet  old  words  do  pass  out  of  use ; new  words  do 
come  into  use  ; the  construction  of  language  does 
change,  although  slightly  and  slowly,  in  the  lapse  of 
years.  Are  these  changes  the  work  of  the  great 
writers  and  the  most  cultivated  speakers  of  a lan- 
guage? It  will  be  found  upon  examination  that 
they  are  not — that  the  very  few  writers  who  can 
justly  be  called  great,  or  even  distinguished,  and 
the  comparatively  small  class  ot  cultivated  speak- 
ers, contribute  to  such  changes  only  in  proportion  to 
their  actual  numbers,  even  if  in  that  degree.  The 
disuse  of  old  words,  the  adoption  of  new  ones,  and 
changes  in  phraseology  and  in  the  structure  of  the 
sentence  are,  or  thus  far  have  been,  an  insensible, 
unconscious  process,  going  on  among  the  whole  mass 
of  those  who  speak  the  language  in  which  they  occur. 
These  changes  are  made  in  speech  ; for  writing  does 
little  in  this  respect ; in  which  its  chief,  if  not  its  only, 
function  is  to  fix  and  record  that  which  has  already 
taken  place  in  speech.  Upon  this  point  I hope  that 
I shall  be  excused  for  repeating  what  I said  some 
years  ago,  that  the  student  of  language,  or  the  mere 
intelligent  observer  of  the  speech  of  liis  own  day, 
cannot  but  notice  how  surely  men  supply  themselves 
with  a word,  when  one  is  needed.  The  new  vocal 
sign  is  sometimes  made,  but  is  generally  found.  A 
lack  is  felt,  and  the  common  instinct,  vaguely  stretch- 
ing out  its  hands,  lays  hold  of  some  common,  or 
mayhap  some  forgotten  or  rarely  used,  word,  and, 
putting  a new  stamp  upon  it,  converts  it  into  cur- 
rent coin  of  another  denomination,  a recognized  rep- 
resentative of  a new  intellectual  value.  Purists  may 


397 


*'JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.” 

'ret  at  the  perversion,  and  philologists  may  protest 
against  the  genuineness  of  the  new  mintage,  but  in 
vain.  It  answers  the  needs  of  those  who  use  it ; and 
that  it  should  do  so  is  all  that  they  require.*  It  is 
in  a language  thus  made  that  all  writers,  great  or 
small,  are  obliged  to  write,  that  all  speakers,  culti- 
vated or  uncultivated,  must  needs  utter  their  daily 
wants,  their  thoughts  and  feelings.  Indeed,  the  ex- 
cellence of  speech  and  writing  is  in  no  small  meas- 
ure determined  by  the  taste  and  judgment  with  which 
speaker  or  writer,  yielding  to  the  new  and  clinging 
to  the  old  in  language,  conforms  to  usage  with  the 
discretion  insisted  upon  in  Pope’s  terse  injunction  : 

In  words,  as  fashions,  the  same  rule  will  hold. 

Alike  fantastic  if  too  new  or  old  : 

Be  not  the  first  by  whom  the  new  are  tried. 

Nor  yet  the  last  to  lay  the  old  aside. 

“ Essay  on  Criticism^'  Part  II, 

Yet  Pope  himself  elsewhere  says  that  great  writ- 
ers, the  men  who  write  such  verse  as  we  can  read,’* 
in  the  severe  selection  of  their  language,  will 

Command  old  words  that  long  have  slept  to  wake. 

Words  that  wise  Bacon  or  brave  Raleigh  spake  ; 

Or  bid  the  new  be  English  ages  hence  ; 

For  use  will  father  what’s  begot  by  sense. 

Second  Epistle  of  the  Second  Book  of  Horace. 

Thus  Pope  himself,  who  affected  preciseness  in 
the  use  of  language  (and  who  yet  in  this  very  pas- 
sage, for  instance,  was  incorrect  in  his  use  of  it,  as 
precisians  often  are),  on  the  one  hand  recognizes  not 
only  right  but  propriety  in  the  use  of  words  that 
would  be  classed  by  lexicographers  as  obsolete,  and 
* “An  Essay  toward  the  Expression  of  Shakespeare’s  Genius.”  1865. 


398 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


on  the  other,  sets  at  naught  the  purist’s  horror  of 
neologism.  And  indeed  there  seems  to  me  nothing 
weaker  than  that  purism  which  shrinks  from  a word 
or  a phrase  merely  because  it  is  new.  If  there  are  to 
be  no  new  words,  how  can  language  express  more 
than  the  first  and  lowest  needs  of  human  nature . 
Without  neologism  language  could  not  grow,  could 
not  conform  itself  to  the  new  needs  of  new  genera- 
tions. The  question  as  to  a word  is  not,  Is  it  new  ? 
but,  Is  it  good  ? And  Pope  has  given  us  the  test  by 
which  to  try  new  words  and  phrases.  They  must  be 
begotten  by  sense.  But  one  parent  of  language  must 
be  precedent.  The  language  of  one  generation  brings 
forth  the  language  of  the  next,  as  surely  as  the 
women  of  one  generation  bring  forth  the  men  of  the 
next.  Hence,  indeed,  the  language  spoken  by  a 
people  is  its  mother  tongue.  True  and  sound  lan- 
guage is  therefore  the  product  of  precedent  and  rea- 
son ; in  other  words,  it  is  the  normal  development 
of  germs  within  itself.  All  other  speech  is  monstrous 
and  illegitimate.  If  an  unreasonable  and  monstrous 
change  establishes  itself,  men  must  needs  submit  as 
to  any  other  effective  usurpation.  They  have  no 
choice.  But  in  the  discussion  of  a proposed  change, 
or  of  one  that  is  beginning  to  effect  itself,  our  test  of 
its  normality  must  be  reason;  because  there  is  no 
other  by  which  to  determine  its  conformity  to  its 
proper  type.  The  same  rule  applies  to  that  which  is 
in  use,  and  which  it  is  proposed  to  drop  or  modify. 
For  if  we  make  the  use  of  eminent  writers  and  culti- 
vated speakers  authoritative,  we  shall  soon  find  our- 
selves involved  in  a conflict  not  only  of  use  with  rea- 
son; and  of  use  with  precedent,  but  of  use  with  itself 


399 


‘\TUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.” 

The  gift  of  judgment,  imagination,  fancy,  humor,  or 
of  all  these,  does  not  necessarily  make  a man  correct 
in  his  use  of  language,  although  such  use  does  gen- 
erally accompany  one  or  more  of  those  intellectual 
qualities.  Great  errors  in  language  might  be  justified 
by  the  authority  of  great  writers.  The  saying  that 
in  that  case  they  are  not  errors,  is  a mere  begging 
of  the  question.  Words  and  phrases  may  have  been 
used  by  great  writers,  and  yet  be  out  of  the  line  of 
normal  development  of  the  language ; and  on  the 
other  hand,  a word  or  a phrase  may  have  been  used 
only  once  by  a writer  without  genius  and  of  inferior 
rank,  or  may  not  have  been  used  at  all,  and  may  yet 
be  a normal  growth  in  speech,  and  perfectly  good 
English.  An  accomplished  and  thoughtful  writer  on 
language  recently  offered  as  complete  justification  of 
the  use  of  proven^  as  the  past  participle  oi prove,  the 
fact  that  it  had  been  used  by  Mr.  Lowell.  It  implies 
no  diminution  of  our  delight  in  Mr.  Lowell’s  poe- 
try, in  his  criticism  or  his  humor,  if  we  admit  that 
his  use  of  language  may  not  be  invariably  correct. 
Since  the  death  of  Hawthorne  probably  no  writer  of 
our  language  is  more  irreproachable  in  this  respect 
than  the  author  of  “Venetian  Life,”  “ Italian  Jour- 
neys,” and  “ Suburban  Sketches,”  which  make  us 
long  to  be  more  indebted  to  the  same  dainty  pen ; 
yet  Mr.  Howell’s  pages  have  furnished  a few  ex- 
amples of  incorrect  English — incorrect  not  because 
other  good  writers  had  not  used  them,  but  because 
they  do  not  conform  to  the  acquirements  of  reason 
and  precedent  in  the  English  language.  Mr.  Lowell 
has  said  that  the  objection  to  illy  is  “not  an  etymo- 
logical objection,’  but  that  it  is  inconsistent  with 


1-00 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


good  usage.  Illy  is  not  so  violently  at  variance  with 
etymology  as  some  persons  seem  to  think  that  it  is. 
But  if  it  were  so,  good  usage  would  not  thereby  make 
it  correct  ; the  usage  would  only  in  so  far  cease  to  be 
good  (for  sometimes  it  is  “ so  much  the  worse  for  the 
facts’’),  although,  like  many  other  strong  tyrants,  it 
might  force  base  coin  into  circulation. 

Leaving  out  of  consideration  for  the  present 
Shakespeare  and  the  dramatists  who  immediately 
preceded  and  followed  him — those  chartered  liber- 
tines of  language — let  us  see  where  the  pilotage  of 
eminent  usage  would  land  us.  And  I will  say  that 
my  examples  have  not  been  curiously  sought  out,  but 
are  merely  transfers  of  memorandums  made  on  the 
margins  and  fly-leaves  of  books  as  I read  them. 

First,  consider  the  following  use  of  both  by  Chau- 
cer, a poet  second  only  to  Shakespeare : 

O chaste  goddesse  of  the  woodes  greene, 

To  whom  bothe  heven  and  erthe  and  see  is  seene. 

The  Knight's  Tale,  1.  439. 

Now  for  such  a use  of  both  the  “authority,”  that 
is  the  example,  of  Chaucer,  can  be  of  no  more 
weight  than  that  of  an  anonymous  advertisment  in  a 
newspaper.  Etymology  and  usage,  including  that 
of  Chaucer  himself  in  other  passages,  make  the  mean- 
ing  of  both^  two  taken  together  ; and  it  is  impossi- 
ble that  the  same  word  can  mean  two  and  three. 
If  fifty  passages  could  be  produced  from  the  works 
of  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  in 
which  both  was  applied  to  three  objects,  such  a use 
ol  it  by  others  might  be  excused,  but  it  could  not  be 
justified.  The  case  is  extreme,  but  therefore  of 
value  ; it  brings  the  point  out  sharply  ; and  by  such 
examples  a point  to  be  established  has  its  best  illus- 


“JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.  401 

tration.  And  there  it  is  ; both  used  by  one  of  our 
greatest  poets  to  mean  three  taken  together.  It  is 
indeed  possible  to  conceive  of  botJis  being  brought 
to  mean  three  or  three  hundred,  and  the  latter  as 
well  as  the  former.  For  that  matter,  let  the  present 
generation  agree  that  both  shall  mean  fifty-six,  and 
the  succeeding  generation  agree  to  the  same,  and  it 
will  thenceforth  so  mean  until  like  general  consent 
shall  assign  to  it  some  other  meaning.  But  such  is 
not  the  way  in  which  words  are  fitted  to  thoughts, 
even  by  usage ; which  itself  conforms  generally  to 
reason,  and  follows  a line  of  logical  connection  and 
normal  growth. 

The  word  practitioner^  which  has  already  (p.  216,) 
been  remarked  upon  as  abnormal  and  indefensible, 
also  affords  an  illustration  of  the  point  under  dis- 
cussion. It  is  not  a new  word,  its  use  dating  back 
at  least  three  hundred  years.  Bishop  Latimer,  ac- 
cording to  Richardson,  uses  it  in  his  sermon  on  the 
Lord’s  Prayer,  applying  it  to  Satan  : “ Consider 
how  long  he  hath  bin  a practitioner and  I find  it 
\n  “The  Gardener’s  Labyrinth”  (Ed.  1586),  more 
than  once.  For  example  : “ Sundrie  practitioners 
mixed  the  bruised  leaves  of  the  cypress  tree,  &c.” 
(p.  32.)  We  have  legitimate  words  with  which  the 
formation  of  this  one  seems  to  be  analogous.  Wi- 
cliffe  writes,  “ For  how  manye  weren  possession- 
eris  of  feldis,  &c.,”  and  Sidney,  “ Having  been  of 
old  freedmen  and  possessioners.”  I venture  to  say 
that  Wicliffe  and  Sidney  might  much  better  have 
written  possessors  ; but  still  there  is  a noun  possession 
from  which  possessioner  may  be  properly  formed. 
vSo  from  redemption  we  have  redemptioner,  and  from 
probation^  probationer . But  there  is  no  noun  prac- 


4-02 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


titioHy  from  which  to  form  practitioner^  and  there- 
fore even  Latimer  cannot  make  it  a normal  pro- 
duct of  our  language.  As  to  my  conjecture  that  it 
was  formed  in  imitation  of  the  French  practicien^  I 
have  since  found  the  following  interesting  and  con- 
firmatory passage  in  Stephen’s  “World  of  Won- 
ders” (A.  D.  i6i6) ; 

“ What  reason  is  it  then  that  Lawyers  should  make  them  such 
good  sport  for  nothing  ? Or  that  they  should  be  weary  of  taking 
before  they  be  weary  of  giving?  And  I am  easily  induced  to 
think e,  that  when  they  were  called  Fragmatidens,  that  is,  Pragma- 
titioners  (by  the  original  word),  things  were  not  so  out  of  square ; 
but  since  that  a sillable  of  their  name  was  clipped  away,  and  thej 
called  Practidens,  that  is,  Praditioners,  they  knew  well  how  to 
make  themselves  amends  for  this  curtailing  of  their  name,  as  well 
upon  their  purses  who  were  not  in  fault,  as  upon  theirs  who  were 
the  authors  thereof.”  p.  129. 

I have  pointed  out  in  a previous  chapter  Pope’s 
use  of  the  perfect  participle  for  the  past  tense,  begnn 
foi  began^  sprung  for  sprang,  and  of  the  weak  pret- 
erite for  the  strong,  as  thrived  for  throve,  shined  for 
shone,  and  the  like.  An  attempt  has  been  made  to 
justify  this  use,  partly  on  the  ground  of  Pope’s 
authority  as  an  eminent  poet,  and  partly  on  the 
ground  of  usage  more  or  less  extensive.  What  this 
pie;  is  worth  will  appear  on  comparison  of  various 
passages  in  works  of  the  same  author.  For  instance  : 

Not  with  such  majesty,  such  bold  relief. 

The  forms  august  of  king  or  conquering  chief, 

E’er  swelled  on  marble,  as  in  verse  have  shin'd 
(In  polished  verse)  the  manners  and  the  mind. 

First  Epistle,  Second  Book  of  Horace. 

And  again,  this  passage  in  the  “ Essay  on  Man’ 

If  parts  allure  thee,  see  how  Bacon  shin'd, 

The  wisest,  brightest,  meanest  of  mankind. 


JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.”  403 

This  would  seem  to  give  Pope’s  authority  in  favor 
of — I shined,  they  shined,  the  sun  shined.  But  when 
we  read  the  following  passage  from  the  third  book 
of  the  same  essay, 

Alike  or  when  or  where  they  shone  or  shine. 

Or  on  the  Rubicon  or  on  the  Rhine, 

we  see  that  the  evidence  of  the  former  passages  is 
merely  that  when  Pope  wanted  a rhyme  he  would 
not  hesitate  to  give  a strong  verb  a weak  preterite, 
regardless  of  law,  analogy,  or  usage.  When  that 
need  did  not  press  him,  or  he  wished  to  gain  a con- 
trast of  sound,  he  wrote  correctly. 

The  following  couplet  from  the  “ Essay  on  Crit- 
icism” I have  cited  before  for  its  striking  use  of  the 
participle  instead  of  the  preterite : 

A second  deluge  learning  thus  overrun, 

And  the  monks  finished  what  the  Goths  begun. 

So  in  “Windsor  Forest”  we  find, 

And  now  his  shadow  reach’d  her  as  she  run. 

His  shadow  lengthened  by  the  setting  sun. 

Shall  we  then  on  Pope’s  authority  say,  When  she 
came  home,  I run  to  meet  her?  The  gentlemen  who 
assisted  at  the  inauguration  of  the  “ sample-room” 
would  thus  be  sustained  in  a use  of  language  very 
common  with  them.  But  no  ; for  in  the  ‘ Essay  on 
Man”  we  read : 

T rue  faith,  true  policy  united  ran  ; 

That  was  but  love  of  God,  but  this  of  man. 

And  again,  in  the  same  poem : 

In  each  how  guilt  and  greatness  equal  ran. 

And  all  that  raised  the  hero  sunk  the  man. 


4-04 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Thus,  as  before,  we  see  that  Pope’s  rule  in  lan- 
guage was  rhyme,  not  reason  ; usefulness,  not  usage ; 
as  we  find  that  it  was  in  the  following  passage  from 
the  same  book  of  the  same  essay,  where  he  does  not 
hesitate  to  use  began  and  begun  interchangeably, 
caring  nothing  for  correctness,  but  only  for  rhyme: 

Till  drooping,  sickening,  dying,  they  began y 
Whom  they  rever’d  as  God,  to  mourn  as  man  ; 

Then  looking  up  from  sire  to  sire  explor’d 
Our  first  great  father,  and  that  first  ador’d  ; 

Or  plain  tradition  that  this  all  begun. 

Conveyed  unbroken  faiths  from  son  to  son. 

Pope’s  writings  are  so  filled  with  this  inconsist- 
ency, or  rather  this  consistent  disregard  of  correctness 
in  favor  of  rhyme,  rhythm,  or  desired  assonance  or 
dissonance,  that  it  would  be  superfluous  to  follow 
him  further  on  this  track.  He  writes  at  pleasure — 
you  rid  or  you  rode^  they  writ  or  they  zvrote^  you  was 
or  you  were.  His  authority  is  evidently  nothing 
worth  in  this  respect ; and  the  same  may  be  said  of 
poets  generally,  who,  if  they  can  make  themselves 
understood,  and  get  the  flow  and  the  sound  of  their 
verses  to  please  their  ears,  shrink  little  from  any 
perversion  of  the  form,  or  even  of  the 'sense,  of  lan- 
guage. This  is  particularly  true  of  the  poets  who 
preceded  Dryden  ; but  even  Tennyson,  in  his  most 
carefully  finished  poem,  “ In  Memoriam,”  writes 
thus : 

Then  echo-like  our  voices  rang  ; 

We  sung,  tho’  every  eye  was  dim, 

A merry  song  we  sans^  with  him 
Last  year ; impetuously  we  sang. 

XXX. 

To  turn  to  prose  writers,  there  is  hardly  any  con- 


'^JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.”  405 

fusion  or  mutilation  of  the  preterite  or  the  perfect 
participle  that  is  not  supported  by  the  authority’’ 
of  Swift,  who,  in  the  “Tale  of  a Tub,”  has  “they 
writ  and  simg^  for  they  wrote  and  sang  ; “if  a cruei 
king  had  not  arose, for  had  not  arisen ; “ the  trea- 
tises wrote, for  written  ; for  all  of  which  his  author- 
ity has  just  as  much  weight  as  it  has  for  such  a use 
of  language  as  “ the  perfection  of  writing  correct, 
which  we  find  in  the  same  book,  and  which  does  not 
exhibit  the  perfection  of  writing  correctly.  Because 
Gibbon  produces  such  a passage  as  this. 

Either  a pestilence  or  a famine,  a victory  or  a defeat,  an  oracle  of 
the  gods  or  the  eloquence  of  a daring  leader  were  sufficient  to  impel 
the  Gothic  arms — 

and  Junius  such  a one  as  this, 

Neither  Charles  nor  his  brother  were  qualified  to  support  such  a 
system — 

are  we  to  take  their  authority  as  a justification  of 
the  use  of  and  neither  with  were?  Here  fol- 

low three  passages  from  eminent  writers ; the  first 
from  Macaulay’s  “ Essay  on  Milton,”  the  second 
from  the  same  writer’s  “ History  of  England,’’  the 
third  from  Junius’s  “ Letters  to  Woodfall  ” : 

Skinner,  it  is  well  known,  held  the  same  political  opinions  with 
his  illustrious  friend. 

During  the  last  century  no  prime  minister  has  become  rich  in 
office. 

This  paper  should  properly  have  appeared  to-morrow. 

Does  the  eminence  of  the  writers  make  such  a use  ot 
language  authoritative?  Certainly  not.  Here  rea- 
son comes  in  and  sets  aside  the  weight  of  authority, 
however  eminent.  Either  and  neither  are  essentially 
separative,  and  therefore  they  cannot  be  correctly 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


f06 

used  with  plural  verbs.  Same  expresses  identity 
and  therefore  cannot  properly  be  used  in  correspond 
ence  to  zvith,  which  means  nearness,  contact,  and 
implies  duality,  severalness,.  The  last  century  is 
time  completely  past,  to  express  events  in  which,  a 
present  perfect  verb  cannot  be  logically  used.  Have 
appeared  expresses  a perfected  action,  and  therefore 
it  cannot  be  correctly  predicated  of  something  in  the 
future — to-morrow. 

The  taking  of  isolated  passages  from  the  works 
of  eminent  writers,  as  examples  of  a use  of  language 
which  has  their  sanction,  is  not  to  be  defended.  It 
is  unfair,  unreasonable ; for  writers,  like  other  men, 
are  to  be  judged  by  their  general  practice,  not  by 
the  occasional  lapses  to  which  they,  like  all  other 
men,  are  subject.  And  it  is  in  part  to  illustrate  the 
unsoundness  of  conclusions  drawn  from  such  rare 
or  solitary  instances,  that  these  examples  are  here 
brought  forward.  It  is  too  common  to  see  an  abnor- 
mal or  illogical  use  of  language  defended  on  the 
ground  that  it  may  be  found  in  the  writings  of  some 
author  of  deserved  reputation. 

As  the  example  of  eminent  writers,  when  it  is 
inconsistent  with  reason  and  analogy,  is  not  author- 
itative, so  good  usage,  that  is,  continuous  use  by 
writers  of  repute  and  people  of  culture,  is  not  neces- 
sary to  the  recognition  of  a word  or  a phrase  as  good 
English.  A good  new  .word  brings  its  own  creden- 
tials, and  is  as  good  English  the  first  day  that  it  is 
spoken  or  written  as  after  a hundred  years  of  the 
best  usage.  But  it  is  also  true  that  many  a bad 
word,  like  many  a bad  man,  is  well  received  and 
must  be  recognized  merely  because  it  has  forced  its 


“JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.”  407 

way  among  its  betters,  and  has  been  adopted  for 
convenience  sake.  It  is  enough  if  the  new  word  is 
normally  formed  upon  a sound  stem  and  conveys  its 
intended  meaning  clearly.  For  example,  the  word 
streeted^  which  I have  previously  cited  as  having 
been  used  by  James  Howell  in  his  “ Letters,”  and 
probably  never  before  or  since,  is  good  English,  not 
because  he  was  a writer  of  uncommon  power  or  pu- 
rity, which  he  was  not,  but  because  it  is  formed  ac- 
cording to  a law  (so  to  speak)  which  permits  the  for- 
mation of  adjectives  participial  in  form  from  nouns, 
and  which  has  come  down  to  us  from  the  Anglo- 
Saxon.  Thus,  in  Wyatt’s  “ Request  of  Cupid”  : 

Weapon ed  thou  art,  and  she  unarmed  sitteth. 

Weaponedy  although  unheard  in  these  days,  is  good 
English  now,  was  good  English  when  Wyatt  used  it 
three  hundred  and  twenty-five  years  ago,  and  would 
have  been  good  English  then  even  if  six  hundred 
years  before  waepened  had  not  meant  male,  i.e.y  weap- 
on-bearing. If  it  were  used  to-day  for  the  first  time,  it 
would  be  as  good  English,  as  utterly  beyond  reproach 
or  exception,  as  if  it  had  continued  in  constant  use 
these  thousand  years. 

In  Mr.  Lowell’s  “ Cathedral  ” a word  occurs. 
undisprivaciedy  which  when  the  poem  appeared  was 
made  the  occasion  of  many  sneers  from  philological 
witlings.  It  probably  had  never  been  used  before, 
and  therefore  those  purists  denounced  it  as  a neolog- 
ism. So  it  is,  in  the  newness  of  its  form,  but  not  in 
the  essence  of  its  formation.  It  is  good  English ; 
but  not  because  Mr.  Lowell  used  it.  His  use  would 
not  make  undisprivacied  English  any  more  than  it 


4-08 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


could  do  the  same  iox  prove^i.  It  is  English  because 
its  meaning  is  clear  and  its  formation  normal.  Its 
meaning  is, — has  not  been  robbed  of  privacy  ; and 
it  is  as  correctly  formed  as  undisturbed.  I do  not 
know  whether  Mr.  Lowell  hesitated  to  use  the  word 
in  question ; but  I am  pretty  sure  that  he  did  not. 
No  man  who  felt  in  him  any  mastery  of  language 
would  be  likely  to  hesitate  a moment  over  such  a 
word.  But  the  fact  is,  that  he  approached  it  grad- 
ually. He  did  not  begin  with  privacied.^  which, 
although  unknown  to  dictionaries,  is  perfectly  good 
English,  meaning  possessed  of  privacy.  But  assum- 
ing privacicd,  he  wrote  in  the  “ Fable  for  Critics’' : 

But  now,  on  the  poet’s  disprivacied  moods, 

With  do  this  and  do  that  the  pert  critic  intrudes. 

is  as  unknown  to  dictionaries  as  pru 
vacied  ox  undisprivacied ; but  its  meaning  — having' 
had  privacy  taken  away — is  clear,  and  its  formation 
is  as  normal  as  that  of  disprized  or  disgusted.  Then 
came  the  double  prefix  in  the  “ Cathedral  ’’ — 

Play  with  his  child,  make  love,  and  shriek  his  mind, 

By  throngs  of  strangers  undisprivacied. 

It  may  be  asked,  As  un  here  merely 'cancels  the 
dis  to  which  it  is  prefixed,  how  does  undisprivacied 
differ  from  privacied,  and  what  necessity  justifies  the 
use  of  the  former  ? To  this  the  reply  is,  that  although 
the  un  merely  cancels  the  dis.,  there  is  in  disprivacied 
a suggestion  of  an  active  and  unpleasant  taking  away 
of  privacy,  and  that  therefore  an  itndisprivqcied  man  is 
one  who  has  escaped  that  injury  from  those  who  are 
willing  to  inflict  it,  while  in  privacied  there  is  no  such 
implication.  All  this  comes  at  once  by  intuition  to 


“ JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.”  409 

men  who  are  masterful  in  language,  or  ready  and 
true  in  its  apprehension. 

Another  author  of  high  and  well-deserved  repute, 
Mr.  Charles  Reade,  affords  an  example  of  the  unique 
use  of  a word  apparently  formed  in  a mood  similar 
to  that  which  led  Mr.  Lowell  to  undisprivacied^  but 
which  is  really  formed  upon  an  exactly  opposite  prin- 
ciple. In  that  charming  story,  “ Peg  Woffington,’ 
there  is  this  passage  : 

Mrs.  Vane  . . . wore  a thick  mantle  and  a hood  that  concealed 
her  features.  Of  these  Triplet  disbarrassed  her. — Chapter  XIII. 

’Now  disbarrassed  is  not  English,  and  never  could 
be,  except  in  virtue  of  a usage  to  which  it  quite 
surely  will  never  attain.  The  word  is  made  on  the 
assumption  that  as  ein  {i.  e.,  in  or  oii)^  combined  with 
barra:>s,  conveys  the  idea  of  personal  encumbrance, 
dis  {i.  e.,  away,  from)  prefixed  to  the  same  stem  would 
convey  the  opposite  meaning.  But  the  fault  in  this 
formation  is  that  there  is  no  such  English  stem  as 
barrass,  nor  can  such  a stem  be  properly  assumed, 
as  in  the  case  of  privacied.  Our  word  embarrass  is 
adopted,  as  a whole,  directly  from  the  French;  and 
it,  as  a whoh  , conveys  a simple  idea,  that  of  encum- 
brance, the  reverse  of  which  must  be  expressed  by 
disc7nbarrassed.  Not  because  it  is  new,  but  because 
it  is  obscure  and  badly  formed,  disbarrassed  must  be 
rejected,  although  it  is  found  in  perhaps  the  best 
book  of  an  English  novelist  whose  vivid  style  and 
creative  genius  will  secure  his  works  a fame  that  will 
endure  when  the  memory  of  men  who  use  language 
much  more  correctly  will  be  forgotten.  Undispriva- 
cied  would  be  English  if,  instead  of  being  first  used 
by  the  author  of  the  “ Commemoration  Ode”  and  the 


410 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


“ Biglow  Papers,”  it  had  been  introduced  in  the  re- 
porting columns  of  a penny  newspaper.  These  two 
neologisms,  similar  in  kind  and  purpose,  brought  for- 
ward by  two  writers  of  eminence,  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances, have  a directly  diverse  fate. 

A finer  example  of  the  introduction  of  a sound, 
good,  new,  and  purely  English  v/ord,  could  not  be 
found  than  in  the  following  passage  in  Doctor  John 
C.  Peters’s  paper  on  ‘‘  Pathology  and  Therapeutics 

Again,  to  a starving  person  we  would  first  administer  homoeopath- 
ically  such  small  quantities  of  food  as  would  enhunger,  if  not  almost 
starve  a hearty  person. 

Dr.  Peters  has  such  well-won  eminence  as  a phy- 
sician that  he  can  afford  to  have  it  said  that,  notwith- 
standing the  generally  clear  and  correct  style  of  his 
medical  writings,  he  has  not  the  authority  in  litera- 
ture that  he  has  in  medicine.  EnJmnger  receives  no 
literary  sanction  from  his  use  of  it ; but  although  it 
seems  (strangely,  I must  confess)  never  to  have  been 
used  before,  it  has  as  robust  an  English  constitution 
as  any  word  in  the  Bible  or  in  Shakespeare. 

It  is  chiefly  to  those  debauchers  of  thought  and 
defilers  of  language,  the  newspapers,  that  we  owe  the 
verbal  abominations  that  are  creeping^nay,  rather 
rushing  into  common  use — use  unhappily  not  always 
confined  to  those  who  inaugurate  “ sample-rooms”  or 
assist  at  those  solemn  rites.  Nor  are  these  hideous 
excrescences  upon  our  mother  tongue  confined  to 
the  reporter’s  columns.  In  the  correspondence  of  a 
paper  of  high  position — correspondence  not  without 
evidence  of  fine  appreciation  and  of  some  literary 
taste — that  is  the  worst  of  it — I met  with  this  sen 
tence  about  Pompeii : 


‘‘JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.”  411 

Even  now,  when  the  city  has  been  dead,  buried  eighteen  hundred 
years,  and  resurrect  ionized,  one  is  startled  by  an  air  of  gayety  that 
clings  to  it. 

This  is  bad  enough,  worse  if  possible  than  its 
forerunner,  resurrected ; but  what  shall  be  said  of  the 
sin  of  the  writer  of  the  following  passage  in  a lead- 
ing article  in  a journal  of  the  very  highest  position  in 
the  country : 

And  what  are  the  misno7nered  Republicans  doing  but  seeking  to 
perpetuate  in  the  Southern  States  the  social  nuisance  of  class  distinc- 
tions? 

What  social  nuisance  could  be  greater  than  a 
newspaper  which  deliberately  sets  before  fifty  thou- 
sand readers — unsuspecting,  receptive,  and  confiding 
— the  printed  example  of  the  use  of  such  an  execra- 
ble compound  as  misnomered  ! By  what  process  did 
a man  who  has  been  able  to  command  the  right  to 
use  a pen  in  the  leading  columns  of  a first-rate  jour- 
nal reach  that  depth  of  degradation  in  language, 
compared  to  which  cant  is  classical  and  slang  ele- 
gant? He  meant  misnamed  ; nothing  more  or  less. 
But  because  he  must  have  “finer  bread  than  is  made 
of  wheat,”  and  because  there  is  a noun  misnomer^  he 
makes  from  it  that  hideous  verb.  Now  again  it  is 
to  be  observed  that  resurrectio7iized  and  misnomered 
are  not  outcasts  because  they  lack  the  sanction  of 
usage  or  the  authority  of  eminent  writers.  They  are 
no  newer,  nor  less  sanctioned  by  use,  good  or  bad, 
rude  or  cultured,  than  undisprivacied  or  streeted  or 
mhuugered,  no  stranger  to  the  common  ear  than 
\ueaponed.  But  the  latter  are  sound  and  healthy 
growths  ; the  former  are  fungi,  monstrous  and  pes- 
Ulent. 


4-12 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Long  established  usage  not  being  an  essential 
condition  to  the  recognition  of  a word  or  a phrase  as 
correct  English,  does  such  usage  of  itself  make  that 
correct  which  will  not  bear  the  tests  of  reason  and 
analogy  ? Observation  justifies  the  answer  that  it 
does  not.  Latham’s  judgment,  that  as  whatever  is, 
in  language,  is  right,  whatever  was  and  is  not,  was 
wrong,  is  unsound  ; not  only  unsound  in  its  conclu- 
sion, but  incorrect  in  its  premise.  In  language,  as  in 
every  other  manifestation  of  man’s  intellectual  and 
moral  nature,  that  which  is  may  be  wrong  ; and  that 
which  was  and  is  not,  may  have  been  right.  Owing 
to  the  peculiar  function  of  language  as  the  only 
means  of  communication  between  man  and  man, 
whatever  is,  must  be  accepted,  in  a certain  degree  at 
least.  A writer  or  speaker  cannot  be  justly  censured, 
as  for  a personal  fault,  because  he  uses  words  and 
phrases  which  are  current  in  his  day.  But  custom 
has  thus  sanctioned  not  a little,  in  all  languages,  the 
incorrectness  of  which  is  discernible,  and  has  been 
discerned,  not  only  by  the  critical  and  the  highly 
cultured,  but  by  men  of  ordinary  intelligence  and  of 
not  more  than  ordinary  carefulness  or  carelessness  in 
speech.  The  mere  fact  that  a word  or  a phrase  has 
long  been  in  good  and  in  general  use  is  presumptive 
evidence  in  its  favor,  and  therefore  a complete  justi- 
fication of  its  use  by  any  individual,  but  not  proof 
that  it  is  a normal  product  of  the  language  of  which 
it  practically  forms  a part.  Words  and  phrases 
come  into  being,  we  hardly  know  how ; and  quickly 
caught  up  from  one  to  another,  they  pass  into  use 
unchallenged,  and  good  or  bad,  right  or  wrong,  sooo 
become  fixed  as  recognized  parts  of  speech.  Rarely 


413 


“JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.” 

is  there  such  reluctance  as  there  was  two  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago  in  regard  to  its^  or  such  protract- 
ed aversion  and  discussion  as  there  has  been  of  late 
in  regard  to  is  beiiigJ^  But  in  this  way,  words  and 
forms  of  speech  creep  into  use  which,  although  they 
are  not  idioms,  cannot  be  justified  by  either  reason 
or  analogy. 

Neologism  is  not  reprehensible  if  the  deviation 
from  precedent  is  in  the  line  of  normal  movement ; 
which  is  a very  different  matter,  for  instance,-  from 

* This  “ continuing  passive  present”  seems  to  be  fastened  upon 
us  ; those  who  inaugurate  “ sample-rooms,”  or  who  report  the  proceed- 
ings on  those  occasions,  being  instant  in  its  use,  and  seizing  every  op- 
portunity of  airing  their  precision.  In  the  report  of  a case  of  a forlorn 
damsel,  I have  met  “ while  she  was  being  paid  attention  to,”  instead 
of  while  she  was  made  love  to,  or,  while  she  was  courted  ; elsewhere, 
“while  this  narrative  was  being  proceeded  with,”  instead  of  while  this 
story  was  told  ; and,  “ the  Democrats  of  Kentucky  are  being  much  ex- 
ercised at  a prospective  failure,”  etc.,  and  even  in  the  London  Spec- 
tator,  “ Precisely  the  same  scene  in  a milder  form  is  being  witnessed 
before  Paris.”  The  following  passage  from  a leading  article  in  a 
New  York  journal  clearly  illustrates  the  peculiar  absurdity  of  this 
phrase  : 

“ History  has  never  moved  with  strides  more  gigantic  than  she  has 
done  during  the  six  weeks  just  closed,  and  behind  the  encircling  walls 
and  bristling  cannon  of  Paris  there  may  at  this  moment  be  transacting 
a more  momentous  drama  than  has  been  seen  there  since  the  cotip  (Petal 
of  1851,  and  a more  imposing  one  than  has  been  witnessed  since  the 
head  of  a king  went  down  as  the  gage  of  battle  to  a confederation  of 
kings.  ‘ What  will  they  say  in  Paris  ? ’ is  to-day  in  every  one’s  mouth, 
while  the  answer  is  being  flashed  across  to  serve  for  to-morrow’s  ad- 
miration or  blame.” 

The  writer  felt  that  it  became  him  to  say  “ is  being  flashed  across” 
but  just  before  he  had  written  “ there  may  be  transacting,”  and  not, 
there  may  be  being  transacted,  which,  according  to  the  formula,  is  ab- 
solutely required.  Is  being  was  very  well,  and  more  than  well,  it  was 
fine  ; but  he  instinctively  shrank  from  be  being : and  yet  in  that  is 
the  gist  of  this  whole  question. 


414 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


the  substitution  of  one  part  of  speech  for  another. 
The  preterites  and  participles  of  the  strong  verba 
again  furnish  us  with  apt  illustrations.  The  original 
formation  of  the  past  participles  of  those  verbs  is  in 
€71,  as  ride^  rode^  ridden  ; but  the  language  in  its  ten- 
dency to  contraction  and  simplification  has  been 
steadily,  although  very  slowly,  dropping  this  syllable. 
For  example,  fight,  fought^  foiightien),  drink,  drank, 
drmikieji),  get , gat,  got(ten),  begin,  begait,  begun{7ie7i),  to 
which  category  might  consistently  be  added  ivrite, 
wrote,  writiteii).  Therefore,  I have  writ  is  normal ; 
and  the  question  between  writ  as  a past  participle 
and  writteji  is  merely  one  of  usage.  But  the  use  of 
writ  as  a preterite,  and  that  of  wrote  as  a participle, 
have  no  such  justification.  Both  are  abnormal  and 
monstrous.  Yet  those  perversions  have  the  support 
of  such  eminent  writers  as  Addison  and  Pope,  Swift, 
Prior  and  Sterne.  Addison  has,  I remember  two 
young  fellows  who  rid^'  etc.  (Spectator,  No.  152); 
and  Pope,  “ statesmen  farces  writ^' ] and  of  course 
the  Pope-lings  all  wrote  in  the  same  fashion,  which, 
indeed,  was  very  prevalent  in  the  last  century  among 
the  most  eminent  writers  and  cultivated  people. 

But  there  are  phrases  and  forms  of>  expression 
which  have  been  in  use  for  centuries  among  both 
the  learned  and  the  ignorant,  the  cultured  and  the 
rude,  and  which  have  passed  or  are  passing  out  of 
use,  not  by  way  of  an  unthinking  conformity  to 
capricious  fashion,  but  because  of  a perception  that 
they  are  at  variance  with  reason.  One  of  these  is 
the  double  negative  which,  by  Anglo-Saxon  and 
early  English  speakers  and  writers,  was  universally 
used  to  strengthen  a negation.  It  may  be  that  the 
change  was  in  a measure  due  to  the  attempt  to 


‘‘JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.”  415 

construct  a grammar  of  the  English  language  upon 
that  of  the  Latin,  in  which  two  negatives  were 
equivalent  to  an  affirmative.  But  it  seems  to  tne 
that  it  was  chiefly  owing  to  a deliberate  conformity 
to  the  requirements  of  logic,  which  in  the  process 
of  time  was  inevitable,  and  which,  once  attained, 
will  never  be  abandoned  until  language  comes  to 
be  informed  by  the  rule  of  unreason.  If  “ There 
is  not  any  reason,”  predicates  the  entire  absence  of 
reason,  surely  “There  is  not  no  reason,”  predicates 
exactly  the  reverse.  The  case,  instead  of  being  at 
all  high,  subtle  or  mysterious,  seems  to  be  one  of 
the  simplest  that  can  be  put  before  any  reasonable 
creature.  It  is  even  stronger  than  that  as  to  the 
double  superlative,  which  went  out  in  company 
with  the  double  negative  about  the  beginning  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  For  as  to  the  double  su- 
perlative the  question  is  almost  one  of  mere  super- 
fluity. Look  for  a moment  at  this  passage  in  Bish- 
op Tunstall’s  Palm  Sunday  Sermon  (A.  D.  1539),  a 
piece  of  English  well  worth  study  : 

“ It  was  harde  suffering  that  He  suffered  for  wicked  men.  It 
was  more  harde  that  He  suffered  of  wicked  men.  And  the  most 
hardest  of  all  was  that  He  suffered  with  wicked  men.” 

When  Tunstall  wrote  it  was  the  custom  to  double 
the  comparative  as  well  as  the  superlative.  But 
here  we  have  “ more  hard,”  and  yet  “ most  hard- 
est.” Now  can  there  be  a doubt  that  if  more  hard 
expresses  the  comparative  degree,  most  hard  equal- 
13^  expresses  the  superlative  ? and,  vice  versa,  that  if 
the  learned  and  clear-headed  Tunstall  was  right  in 
Writing  most  hardest,  he  was  wrong,  or  at  least  in- 


4. 1 6 WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

sufficient,  in  writing  7nore  hard?  We  may  be  sure 
that  it  is  owing  to  such  perception  and  such  rea- 
soning, first  on  the  part  of  careful  and  thoughtful 
writers — who  generally  do,  in  very  deed,  evolve 
their  language  from  the  depths  of  their  own  con- 
sciousness, although  some  are  content  with  fishing 
theirs  from  the  shallows  of  usage — and  afterwards 
on  the  part  of  the  cultivated,  and  then  of  people  in 
general,  that  the  use  of  the  double  comparative  and 
superlative,  as  well  as  of  the  double  negative,  dis- 
appeared from  English  speech. 

Under  a like  influence  of  reason  another  old  usage 
has  given  up  its  hold  on  the  language,  and  we  may 
be  sure  forever — the  separation  of  the  limiting 
adjective  from  the  word  which  it  modifies.  Thus 
Bunyan  makes  Interpreter’s  minstrel  sing,  “ The 
Lord  is  only  my  support.”  Now  Bunyan  meant 
not  that  the  Lord  was  nothing  but  a support  to  the 
singer,  but  either  that  the  Lord  and  none  other  was 
his  support,  or  that  the  Lord  was  his  single  and 
sufficient  support.  Nowadays  we  write  more  cor- 
rectly, The  Lord  only  is  m}^  support,  or  The  Lord  is 
my  only  support ; both  of  which  phrases  express 
one  fact  indeed,  but  not  the  same  conception  of  the 
fact.  The  former  use  of  only  and  similar  adjectives, 
was  the  general  one,  even  in  literature,  until  a com- 
paratively recent  period,  and  a remnant  of  it  still 
exists  in  common  speech.  Shakespeare  even  makes 
a page  in  “As  You  Like  It”  say  that  hawking  and 
spitting  and  saying  we  are  hoarse  are  “ the  only 
prologues  to  a bad  voice,”  an  assertion  seeming  so 
absurdly  at  variance  with  the  fact  that  I was 
tempted  to  transpose  only  and  read  “ only  the  pro- 
logues to  a bad  voice.”  But  Shakespeare,  I am 


^‘JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.”  41; 

sure,  wrote  the  only,”  etc.,  according  to  the  inex- 
act usage  of  his  time.  So  we  hear  now  sensible, 
educated,  farmer  folk  say,  “ That  is  most  an  excel- 
lent apple”  (I  heard  it  but  a short  time  ago),  or 
“ That  was  most  a capital  sermon,”  instead  of  a 
most  excellent,  a most  capital.  And  in  old  sermons 
and  moral  essays  phrases  like  “ so  oft  to  wallowe 
in  such  his  wickednesse  ” are  common.  Modern 
usage,  which  requires  that  the  adjective,  or  modify- 
ing word  or  phrase,  shall  not  be  separated  from  the 
word  or  phrase  which  it  modifies,  is  a deliberate 
conformity  to  the  characteristic  logical  structure  ot 
the  English  sentence. 

Another  phrase  “ sanctioned  ” by  universal  usage 
is  disappearing  under  our  eyes  at  this  day  before 
the  advance  of  reason — whether  or  no.  It  is  now 
seen,  to  cite  for  instance  an  old  story,  that  there 
will  be  Divine  service  at  this  meeting-house  on 
next  Wednesday  evening  whether  [it  rains]  or 
[rains]  not ; and  therefore  whether  or  no  is  doomed. 
Now  fifty  or  a hundred  or  two  hundred  years  ago 
whether  or  not  would  have  been  the  correct  form 
and  good  English,  just  as  it  is  now,  although  whether 
or  no^  being  in  universal  use,  was  admissible. 

Yet  another  example  of  the  so-called  authoritative 
misuse  of  language  is  the  use  of  had  in  the  phrases,  1 
had  rather,  Yon  had  better.  This  has  the  sanction  of 
usage  for  centuries,  not  only  by  the  English-speaking 
people  generally,  but  by  their  greatest  and  most 
careful  writers.  Nothing,  however,  among  the  few 
enduring  certainties  of  language  is  more  certain  than 
i.hat  had  expresses  perfected  and  past  possession. 
How,  then,  consistently  with  reason,  and  with  its 
constant  and  universally  accepted  meaning,  in  every 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


418 

other  connection,  can  it  be  used  to  express  future 
action  ? A perception  of  this  incongruity,  and  a con- 
sequent uneasiness  as  to  the  use  of  these  phrases,  is 
becoming  common,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  they 
will,  ere  long,  begin  to  be  dropped  in  favor  of  a more 
logical  and  self-consistent  phraseology.  Had  rather 
will  probably  yield  to  would  rather,  and  had  better 
to  might  better.  In  like  position  is  the  use  of  the 
present  perfect  and  the  perfect  infinitive,  thus : If 
I had  have  done,  I was  ready  to  have  gone,  which 
is  supported  by  the  best  usage  of  centuries.  Bishop 
Jewell  writes,  “ the  church  was  ready  to  have  fallen.” 
There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that  this  is  logically  in- 
correct. Jewell  meant  that  the  church  was  ready  to 
fall ; we  should  say.  If  I had  done,  I was  ready  to 
go  ; and  we  may  be  sure  that,  ere  long,  this  phrase- 
ology will  be  deliberately  substituted  for  the  other 
on  logical  grounds. 

I pass  over  right  away  in  the  sense  of  immedi- 
ately, which  is  in  common  use  here  among  the  most 
cultivated  people,  merely  with  the  mention  of  it  as 
altogether  unjustifiable  on  any  ground,  and  as  hav- 
ing no  affinity  whatever  with  straightway.  It  is  an 
undoubtable  Americanism,  one  of  the  very  few  words 
or  phrases,  not  slang,  which  can  be  properly  so 
called.  Different  to  is  as  exclusively  British.  It  has 
come  into  use  since  the  Commonwealth  and  the 
Restoration,  and  it  pervades  British  speech  and  liter- 
ature even  of  the  highest  class,  producing  such  com- 
binations as  the  following : 

The  words  la  7naniere  Gottica  appear  to  have  been  first  applied  by 
the  Italian  writers,  to  distinguish  the  previous  style  of  architecture  tc 
that  then  in  vogue. — London  AtJmtceiim,  Nov.  9,  1859. 

It  is  true  that  England  stands  to  America,  in  point  of  power,  some 


“JUS  ET  NORjMA  LOQUENDI.”  4^9 

thing  different  to  that  of  Athens  to  the  Rome  of  Cicero, — London 
Spectator  Nov  25,  1865. 

A word  used  in  both  countries,  but  more  com- 
monly with  us,  lengthy^  is  a marked  example  illustra- 
ting my  present  position.  It  is  illogical,  at  variance 
with  analogy,  and  it  is  entirely  needless,  as  it  has 
usurped — who  knows  how  or  why  ? — the  rightful 
place  of  a good  and  well-connected  English  word, 
which  does  properly  express  that  which  'lengthy  ex- 
presses only  on  sufferance,  and  by  reason  of  general 
but  unjustifiable  usage.  And  yet  even  Mr.  Lowell 
not  only  uses  it  but  speaks  well  of  it,  as  a word  “ civ- 
illy compromising  between  long  and  tedioiisj^  which 
we  have  “given  back  to  England.”  It  is  true  that 
English  does  need  such  a word,  and  therefore  had  it 
• before  there  could  have  been  Americanisms.  For 
did  not  Puritan  sermons  precede  Presidents’  mes- 
sages ? Adjectives  expressing  likeness  in  quality  are 
formed  in  English  from  immaterial  nouns,  by  a suffix 
which  would  have  at  once  occurred  to  Mr.  Lowell  if 
he  had  used,  instead  of  the  Romance  word  tedious^ 
the  Anglo-Saxon  wearisome  or  tiresome.  The  family 
is  numerous — lonesome,  zvholesome,  irksome.,  handsotne, 
loathsome,  frolicsome,  burdensome,  and  the  like.  And 
so  from  Anglo-Saxon  times  to  very  modern  days  we 
have  had  the  analogous  word  longsome,  meaning,  so 
long  as  to  be  almost  wearisome  or  tedious.  It  is 
common  with  the  Elizabethan  writers,  so  well  known 
to  Mr.  Lowell,  and  Prior  is  cited  for  its  use  by  Web- 
ster. Bishop  Hall,  in  his  “ Defence  of  the  Humble 
Remonstrance,”  writes  : “ They  have  had  so  little 
mercy  on  him  as  to  put  him  to  the  penance  of  their 
longsome  volume.”  It  is  manifest  that  writers  who 


^.20 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


use  wearisome^  irksome^  and  hiirdensome  can  have  no 
consistent  objection  to  longsoine^  which  has  long  and 
eminent  usage  in  its  favor,  and  which  Mr.  Lowell 
might  well  bring  up  again,  as  Tennyson  has  brought 
up  rathe.  The  objection  to  lengthy  seems  to  be  well 
taken.  As  to  our  having  given  the  latter  back  to 
England,  it  may  be  said  that  an  instance  of  the  use 
of  the  word  before  England  gave  her  people  and 
her  language  to  America  has  not  yet  been  produced, 
and,  according  to  my  observation,  does  not  exist. 

Another  error  common  among  cultivated  writers 
and  speakers  is  the  use  of  adverbs  with  the  verb  to 
look,  as.  He  looked  wretchedly.  She  looked  beauti- 
fully. It  might  as  well  be  said  that  the  grass  looks 
greenly,  or  the  man  looks  bluely.  A man  who  lives 
wretchedly  will  probably  look  wretched  ; a woman 
who  is  formed  and  dressed  beautifully  will  look 
beautiful.  The  error  is  the  consequence  of  a confu- 
sion of  look  in  the  sense  to  direct  the  eye,  and  look 
in  the  sense  of  to  seem,  to  appear.  The  same  per- 
sons who  say  'that  a man  looked  wretchedly,  or  a 
woman  looked  beautifully,  would  not  say  that  he 
seemed  wretchedly,  or  she  seemed  beautifully.  In 
the  phrases.  He  looked  well.  She  seemed  'ill,  well  and 
ill  are  not  really  adverbs.  Such  phrases  as,  I had 
rather.  You  had  better.  Had  have  done.  Ready  to 
have  fallen.  Right  away.  Different  to,  and  Looked 
wretchedly,  have,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  nothing  in 
common  with  such  as.  We  made  the  land.  The  ship 
stood  up  the  bay.  He  took  his  journey  (Jewell  writes 
tooke  his  progresse”).  They  came  in  thick,  He  took 
her  to  wife,  A house  hard  by,  He  took  up  with  her, 
He  did  it  out  of  hand,  I won’t  put  up  with  it, 


421 


“JUS  ET  NORMA  LOQUENDI.” 

Given  to  hospitality,  Stricken  in  years.  The  latter 
are  truly  idiomatic,  and  generally  metaphorical ; 
and,  although  they  defy  analysis,  they  are  not,  like 
the  former  at  variance  with  themselves  and  defiant 
of  reason. 

This  healthy  tendency  toward  logical  correctness 
in  language  is  liable  to  perversion  ; a perversion  to 
which  we  owe  such  phrases  as  “ is  being  built,”  and 
“written  over  the  signature.”  The  former  is  due 
to  an  inability  to  perceive  that  a word  formed  upon 
a verb  by  the  suffix  mg  {e.g,  buildmg)  may  be  either 
a verbal  noun  or  a participle,  and  have  a passive  or 
an  active  signification  according  to  its  place  in  the 
sentence  and  the  words  with  which  it  is  connected, 
and  that  the  combination  of  the  present  participle 
with  the  perfect,  {e.g.,  being  built,  having  been),  logi- 
cally expresses  action  or  being  which  is  complete 
at  the  time  spoken  of.  The  latter  is  the  product 
of  a prim  and  narrow  righteousness  of  mind  inca- 
pable of  sympathy  with  that  free,  figurative  use  of 
words  which  gives  strength  and  richness  to  much 
of  the  daily  speech  of  simple  folk,  and  which  is  so 
characteristic  of  the  nervous  and  vivid  phraseology 
of  the  Elizabethan  period.  Both  these  incapacities 
are  illustrated  in  the  following  dialogue.  It  is  said 
to  have  taken  place  somewhere  in  Massachusetts, 
and  it  was  published  in  the  newspaper  from  which 
I quote  it  “ for  the  benefit  of  grammarians.” 

Otd  Gentle7nan. — “Are  there  any  houses  building  in  your  village  ? ” 

Young  Lady. — “No,  Sir,  There  is  a new  house  being  built  for 
Mr.  Smith,  but  it  is  the  carpenters  who  are  building.” 

Gentleman. — True  ; I sit  corrected.  To  be  building  is  certainly 
a different  thing  from  to  be  being  built.  And  how  long  has  Mr. 
Smith’s  house  been  being  built  ?” 

Lady, — (Looks  puzzled  a moment,  and  then  answers  rather  ab. 
ruptly.)  “ Nearly  a year.” 


422 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Gentleman. — ‘ How  much  longer  do  you  think  it  will  be  being 
built?" 

Lady. — (Explosively.)  “ Don’t  know.” 

Gentleman. — “ 1 should  think  Mr.  Smith  would  be  annoyed  by 
its  being  so  long  being  built,  for  the  house  he  now  occupies  being 
old,  he  must  leave  it,  and  the  new  one  being  only  being  built,  in- 
stead of  being  built  as  he  expected  he  cannot — ” 

At  this  point,  it  is  said,  the  young-  lady  disap- 
peared ; and  here  I return  from  my  digression. 

If,  then,  novelty  is  not  a tenable  ground  of  objec- 
tion to  a word  or  a phrase,  and  long  usage  is  not  in 
itself  full  justification,  and  if  the  example  of  writers 
eminent  for  the  instruction  or  the  pleasure  they 
give  is  not  authoritative  when  they  disregard  rea- 
son and  analogy,  what  is  the  rule  or  standard  by 
which  language  may  be  tested,  and  the  appeal  to 
which  is  final?  The  question  is  answered  in  the 
putting  of  it.  There  is  no  such  absolute  rule. 
Usage  gives  immunity  to  use  ; but  the  court  that 
pronounces  judgment  upon  language  is  a mixed 
commission  of  the  common  and  the  critical,  before 
whom  precedent  and  good  usage  have  presump- 
tive authority,  on  the  condition  that  they  can  bear 
the  test  of  criticism,  that  is,  of  reason.  To  that 
test  they  are  continually  subjected,  gnd  before  it 
they  are  compelled  frequently  to  give  way.  Usage 
is  not  a guarantee  of  correctness  ; criticism  is  inca- 
pable of  creation.  By  the  former,  acting  instinc- 
tively, language  is  produced  and  has  its  life.  By 
the  latter,  it  is  wrought  toward  a logical  precision 
and  symmetrical  completeness,  which  it  constantly 
approximates,  but  which,  owing  to  its  unstable  na- 
ture and  the  uncontrollable  influences  to  v hich  it 
yields,  it  can  never  perfectly  attain. 


CONCLUSION. 


423 


t 


CONCLUSION. 

It  is  not  for  lack  of  material  at  hand  that  I here 
end  this  series  of  articles,  which  has  stretched 
out  far  beyond  the  not  very  definite  limits  of  m3’ 
original  design.  I have  passed  by  some  subjects 
unnoticed  that  I purposed  to  take  in  hand,  but  I 
have  also  been  led  whither  I did  not  think  of  going 
when  I set  out.  If  my  readers  have  lost  anything, 
they  have  also  gained  something  in  the  event.  That 
it  should  be  so  was  hardly  to  be  avoided.  To  go 
directly  to  a fixed  point,  which  is  the  only  object 
of  one’s  journey,  is  easy  ; but  a tour  of  observation 
is  generally  brought  to  an  end  with  some  proposed 
object  left  unattained,  through  the  failure  of  time 
and  means,  and  often  by  the  weariness  of  the  ob- 
servers. If  those  who  have  gone  with  me,  in  some 
cases  as  my  confiding  fellow-students,  in  others  as 
my  sharp  and  vigilant  censors,  — a sort  of  linguistic 
detective  police,  — do  not  rejoice  at  the  termination 
of  our  word-tour  for  the  latter  reason,  I have  been 
more  fortunate,  either  in  my  subjects  or  in  their 
treatment,  than  I could  have  reasonably  hoped  to 
be.  If  I have  seemed  to  neglect  the  important  for 
the  trivial,  and  to  ask  my  readers  to  give  time  and 
attention  to  the  consideration  of  minute  distinctions 
wliich  they  have  thought  might  better  be  occupied 
with  the  discussion  of  great  principles,  or  at  least  with 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


<^.24 

the  investigation  of  the  lav/s  of  speech,  it  should  be 
remembered  that  linguistic  discussion,  from  its  very 
nature,  must  be  minute ; that  the  widest  difference 
in  the  meaning  of  words  and  of  sentences  mav  be 
made  by  the  slightest  changes ; that  the  wealth  of 
language  is  a sum  of  trifles  ; that  that  which  is  in  a 
great  measure  determined  by  arbitrary  usage  can- 
not be  judged  upon  general  principles  ; and  that  that 
cannot  be  tried  by  its  conformity  to  law  for  which 
no  law  has  yet  been  established.  This,  true  of  all 
languages,  is  particularly  true  of  English,  which  is 
distinguished  among  the  outcomings  of  Babel  for  its 
composite  character  and  its  unsystematic,  although 
not  unsymmetrical,  development.  It  is,  I suspect, 
less  a structure  and  more  a spontaneous  growth 
than  any  other  language  that  has  a known  history 
and  a literature.  Through  all  languages,  as  through 
all  connected  phenomenons,  there  ma}'  be 'traced 
certain  continuous  or  often-repeated  modes  of  gen- 
eral development,  which  may  be  loosely  called 
laws ; and  upon  those  there  have  been  attempts, 
more  or  less  successful,  to  found  a universal  gram- 
mar or  system  of  speech  formation.  But  upon  this 
field  of  inquiry  I have  not  professed  to  enter  ; having 
devoted  myself  to  the  consideration  of  what  is  pecu- 
liar to  our  mother-tongue,  rather  than  to  what  she 
has  in  common  with  others.  Even  in  this  respect, 
what  I have  written  is  at  least  as  far  from  being 
complete  as  my  object  in  writing  was  from  com- 
pleteness. 

The  series  has  been  honored  by  an  attention  that 
gratified  and  cheered  me  as  I wrote.  I owe  much 
to  my  critics  ; not  only  to  those  who  have  given  me 


CONCLUSION. 


425 


a favorable  hearing  and  insured  it  foi  me  from 
others,  but  to  those  who  have  endeavored  to  sting 
me  with  sneers  and  overwhelm  me  with  ridiculh, 
partly  from  a sense  of  duty  to  their  language  and 
their  kind,  and  partly  that  they  might  show  their 
readers  that,  with  all  my  deficiencies,  I had  the 
merit  of  being  the  occasion  of  the  display  of  superior 
knowledge,  if  not  of  superior  courtesy,  in  others. 
To  the  latter,  indeed,  I stand  more  indebted  than 
to  the  former  ; for  it  is  not  from  our  friends  that  we 
learn,  but  from  our  enemies.  They  show  us  where 
we  are  weak.  And,  besides,  few  of  mine  have 
failed,  while  giving  me  instruction  in  English,  to 
furnish  me  with  the  most  valuable  means  of  im- 
provement in  the  use  of  language  — exan  pies  of 
false  syntax  for  correction.  Of  these,  however,  I 
have  not  availed  myself  publicly  for  the  instruction 
of  others,  although  I might  have  crucified  most  of 
my  critics  upon  crosses  made  out  of  their  own  heads. 
And,  indeed,  in  my  search  for  examples  I have 
generally  turned  from  the  writings  of  my  immediate 
contemporaries  and  countrymen  to  those  of  other 
generations  and  other  countries,  or  to  the  anony- 
mous pages  of  public  documents  and  newspapers. 

Many  letters  have  come  to  me  with  welcome 
questions,  objections,  suggestions,  of  which  I have 
had  time  and  opportunity  to  notice  very  few,  to  my 
regret.  Among  the  remarks  I have  made,  none 
was  so  fruitful  of  letters  of  information  as  my  mere 
passing  allusion  to  the  slang  phrase  "a  continental 
damn.”  The  number  of  ” The  Galaxy  ” in  which  it 
was  made  was  hardly  published  before  ! received 
a letter  informing  me  of  the  existence  in  this  coun- 


426 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


try,  at  the  remote  period  of  seventy  or  eighty  years, 
of  a paper  currency  called  continental,  and  that  this 
currency  was  worthless,  and  that  hence  — and  so 
forth,  and  so  forth.  This  was  soon  followed  by 
others  to  the  same  effect,  their  numbers  increasing 
as  the  time  wore  on.  They  came  to  me  from  the 
north,  south,  east,  west,  and  middle ; from  Pas- 
samaquoddy  and  the  Gulf;  from  Squam  Beach  and 
Lower  California.  I might  almost  say  or  sing  that 
they  were  sent  from  Greenland’s  icy  mountains, 
from  India’s  coral  strand,  to  tell  me  that  there  had 
been  Continental  money  in  this  land.  They  came 
to  me  at  ''The  Galaxy”  office,  at  my  own  office,  at 
my  house.  Like  Pharaoh’s  frogs  in  number  and  in 
pertinacity,  they  climbed  up  into  my  bed-chamber, 
and  I have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that,  like  the 
frogs,  some  of  them  went  into  my  oven.  I dreaded 
meeting  my  friends  in  the  street ; for  I felt  that 
there  was  not  one  of  them  that  did  not  long  to  lead 
me  quietly  aside,  even  if  he  did  not  do  so,  and  say, 
" About  that  continental  damn,  I think  I can  set 
you  right.  After  the  Revolution  there  was  a vast 
.^imount  of  paper  money  circulating  through  the 
country.  This  was  called  the  Continental  currency, 
and,  as  it  proved  to  be  worthless — ” and  so  forth, 
and  so  forth.  Really,  I hope  my  friends  will  not 
misapprehend  me  when  I say  that  it  is  generally 
safe  to  assume  that  the  court  knows  a little  law,  I 
had  heard,  before  the  coming  of  this  year  of  grace 
1869,  that,  after  the  Revolution,  there  was  a vast 
amount  of  paper  money  circulating  through  the 
country  ; that  this  was  called  Continental  currency 
that  it  proved  worthless — and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 


CONCLUSION. 


427 


Vet  I do  not  incline  to  the  opinion  that  hence  comes 
our  ” continental  damn.”  The  phrase  seems  to  me 
a counterpart,  if  not  a mere  modification  of  others 
of  the  same  sort  — a tinker’s  damn,  a trooper’s 
damn  ; and  as  the  troops  of  the  colonies  were  called 
Continentalers,  or  Continentals,  during  the  war, 
and  for  many  years  afterward,  it  seems  to  me  much 
more  probable  that  the  phrase  in  question  was,  at 
first,  a Continental’s  damn,  from  which  the  sign  of 
the  possessive  was  gradually  dropped,  than  that  an 
adjective  was  taken  from  money  and  used  to  qualify 
a curse ; and  still  more  probable  that  the  epithet 
was  added  in  that  mere  disposition  toward  the  use 
of  vague,  big,  senseless  phrases  that  moulds  the 
speech  of  such  as  use  this  one. 

Among  the  propositions  and  requests  that  have 
been  elicited  by  the  articles  embodied  in  this  vol- 
ume, is  one  which  comes  to  me  from  many  quar- 
ters, and  which  one  correspondent  puts  in  the 
following  attractive  form  to  the  editors  of  " The 
Galaxy”  : Could  not  he  [f.  the  present  writer] 
be  induced  to  prepare  a book  for  schools  which 
would  embody  his  ideas  and  all  that  it  would  be 
necessary  for  scholars  to  learn  in  regard  to  the 
use  and  construction  of  language,  and  so  save 
many  cries  and  tears  that  go  out  over  the  pres- 
ent unintelligible  books  that  pass  for  grammars? 
I am  sure  that  a future  generation,  if  not  the  pres- 
ent, would  rise  up  and  bless  his  name.”  This  re- 
quest is  made  by  a teacher,  as  it  has  been  by 
others  of  the  same  honorable  profession.  I answer, 
that  I would  gladly  act  on  this  suggestion  if  it  were 
probable  that  any  responsible  and  competent  pub- 


4-^S  WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 

iisher  would  make  it  prudent  for  me  to  do  so.  It 
would  be  delightful  to  believe  that  the  next  genera- 
tion would  rise  up  and  call  me  blessed ; but  I am 
of  necessity  much  more  interested  in  the  question 
whether  the  present  generation  would  rise  up  and 
put  its  hand  in  its  pocket  to  pay  me  for  my  labor. 
Any  one  who  is  acquainted  with  the  manner  in 
which  school-books  are  ” introduced  ” in  this  coun- 
try knows  that  the  opinions  of  competent  persons 
upon  the  merits  of  a book  have  the  least  possible 
influence  upon  its  coming  sufficiently  into  vogue  to 
make  its  publication  profitable  ; and  publishers,  like 
other  men  of  business,  work  for  money.  One  of 
the  trade  made,  I know,  — although  not  to  me,  — an 
answer  like  this  to  a proposition  to  publish  a short 
series  of  school-books  : ” I believe  your  books  are 
excellent ; but  supposing  that  they  are  all  that  3^ou 
believe  them  to  be,  after  stereotyping  them  I should 
be  obliged  to  spend  one  hundred  thousand  dollars 
and  more  in  introducing  them.  I am  not  prepared 
to  do  this,  and  therefore  I must  say.  No,  at  once. 
The  merit  of  a school-book  has  nothing  to  do  with 
its  value  in  trade.”  And  the  speaker  was  a man  of 
experience.  Provoked  by  the  ineptness  of  a school- 
book which  fell  into  my  hands,  I went  once  to  an 
intelligent  and  able  teacher,  in  whose  school  I 
knew  it  was  used,  and  calling  his  attention  to  the 
radical  faults  in  the  book,  — faults  of  design  which 
1 knew  there  was  no  need  that  I should  point  out  to 
him  in  detail,  — I asked  him  why  he  used  for  ele- 
mentaiy  instruction  a book  so  fitted  to  mislead  his 
scholars.  His  answer  was,  ” All  that  you  say  is 
true.  I know  that  the  book  is  a very  poor  one ; but 


CONCLUSION. 


429 


we  are  ordered  to  use  it.  What  can  I do?”  Now, 
one  of  the  body  that  gave  this  order  was,  at  that 
time,  a neighbor  of  mine  — a coarse,  low-niinded, 
entirely  uneducated  man,  who  was  growing  rapidly 
rich.  He  was  about  as  fit  to  pronounce  upon  the 
merits  of  a school-book  as  Caligula’s  horse  was  for 
the  consulship.  The  publication  of  elementary 
school-books  and  dictionaries  is  one  of  the  most 
profitable  branches  of  the  trade,  if  books  can  be  ^^in- 
troduced ” into  general  use  ; but  otherwise  it  is  not  so  ; 
and  publishers  manage  this  part  of  their  business  just 
as  railway  companies  and  other  corporations  do  — ■ 
with  a single  eye  to  profit.  A railway  company, 
managed  by  men  of  respectable  position,  finds  itself 
threatened  with  a law  restraining  its  privileges,  or 
desires  the  passage  of  a law  increasing  them.  Its 
agents  make  a calculation  somewhat  in  this  form : 
To  submit  to  the  threatened  law,  or  to  do  without  the 
one  that  is  desired,  will  involve  the  loss  of  so  much 
money  ; to  defeat  the  law  in  one  case,  or  to  obtain 
it  in  the  other,  by  spending  money  to  influence  votes, 
will  cost  so  much  less.  The  latter  course  is  taken, 
without  scruple  or  hesitation.  With  the  company  it 
is  a mere  matter  of  business  ; the  ’morals  of  the  ques- 
tion are  the  concern  of  the  other  parties  to  the  ar- 
rangement.* 

* That  these  strictures  made  in  “ The  Galaxy  ” of  May,  1869,  were  just  and  timely, 
is  shown  by  the  following  articles,  w'hich  subsequently  appeared  in  “ The  American 
Booksellers’  Guide  ” (January,  1870),  and  “The  Evening  Mail  ” (March  3,  1870). 

“A  Protest  addressed  to  Publishers  of  School-books. 

“In  the  last  number  of  the  Guide  we  reprinted  from  the  Brooklyn  “ Eagle  ” the  list 
of  school-books  adopted  by  the  Board  of  Education  of  that  city,  and  the  prices  at 
which  the  books  were  furnished  by  the  publishers.  These  prices  were  about  one 
third  of  those  at  which  the  books  are  regularly  sold.  They  were  furnished  at  the 
reduced  prices  to  influence  the  Board  of  Education  of  Brooklyn  to  adopt  them  over 


4-30 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Now,  were  such  a grammar  and  such  a dictionary 
published  as  some  readers  of  these  articles  would 
like  to  have,  and  should  they  be  received  with 

other  books  that  were  offered,  and  thereby  to  secure  their  introduction  into  the 
schools. 

■‘This  case  is  only  one  example  of  what  is  being  done  all  over  the  country  by  the 
agents  of  the  school-book  houses.  The  prices  of  the  books  sold  to  Brooklyn,  al- 
though much  less  than  first  cost,  are  better  than  are  obtained  in  the  majority  of  cases 
of  what  is  called  ‘first  introduction.’  Introduction  is  usually  effected  by  exchan- 
ging new  books  for  the  old  ones  in  use.  The  house  whose  books  are  thus  thrown  out 
naturally  seeks  the  first  opportunity  in  any  quarter  to  exchange  its  books  for  those 
of  its  rivak 

‘ ‘ The  introduction  of  school-books  has  become  a source  of  bribery  and  corruption, 
which  is  paralleled  only  in  the  municipal  politics  of  our  largest  city.  Boards  of  Educa- 
tion are  completely  demoralized.  Cases  are  known  of  exchanges  of  books  being 
made  in  some  cities  as  often  as  once  a year.  W e shall  not  refer  to  the  damaging 
effect  of  such  changes  upon  the  progress  of  education.  Pupils  are  little  more  titan 
made  acquainted  with  the  rudiments  of  a study  as  presented  in  a text-book,  and  pre- 
pared to  follow  out  the  method  of  the  author,  when,  lo  ! another  text-book  is  put 
into  his  hands,  and  he  is  compelled  to  discard  the  old  and  take  up  a new  system 
But  a few  changes  of  this  kind  is  required  to  muddle  the  clearest  intelligence. 

“It  is  because  of  its  effect  upon  the  trade  that  we  desire  to  protest  against  this 
system  of  bribery,  and  the  damaging  reduction  of  prices  all  over  the  country.  In  the 
first  place,  it  causes  a direct  loss  to  publishers ; and,  secondly,  it  ruins  the  business 
in  school-books  of  the  local  booksellers. 

“It  is  estimated  that  the  loss  caused  to  publishers  by  this  unscrupulous  and  cor- 
rupt competition  annually  amounts  to  over  five  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Nothing 
is  really  gained  by  this  wasteful  expenditure,  as  the  same  books  would  be  sold  in 
about  the  same  proportion  if  it  was  entirely  discontinued.  What  is  gained  in  one 
place  by  unfair  means  is  lost  in  another  by  the  same  means.  Whether  publishers 
confine  themselves  to  fair  methods  or  foul,  as  the  same  agencies  are  open  to  all,  the 
effects  will  in  general  be  about  equal.  If  this  vast  sum  were  saved  to  be  employed 
in  legitimate  channels,  better  prices  could  be  paid  to  authors  and  better  work  obtained, 
more  could  be  spent  upon  the  mechanical  execution  of  books,  they  could  be  offered 
lower,  and,  lastly,  publishers  would  realize  more  money,  and  their  business  would 
/est  upon  a securer  basis.  , 

“ But  the  greatest  inji«ry  is  done  to  the  local  booksellers,  who  sell  the  larger  por- 
tion of  the  books.  By  publishers  offering  their  books  through  periodical  travelling 
agents  at  one  half  the  retail  prices,  the  trade  of  the  booksellers  is  not  only  taken  out 
of  their  hands  at  particular  times,  but  their  customers  are  dissatisfied  to  pay  the 
regular  retail  prices  at  any  time.  This  has  become  such  a source  of  dissatisfaction 
that  we  almost  wonder  at  retail  booksellers  undertaking  to  supply  school-books  at 
all.  They  might  compel  publishers  to  deal  directly  in  all  cases  with  the  schools, 
and  we  doubt  if  the  ruinous  prices  would,  if  this  were  done,  be  long  continued. 

“We  advise  some  honorable  combination  among  the  leading  houses  to  put  an  end 
to  this  great  and  growing  evil,  which  is  subversive  not  only  of  educational  progress, 
but  of  commercial  integrity.  Such  a combination  is  possible,  and  such  penalties 
might  be  assessed  against  offenders,  by  mutual  consent,  as  would  redeem  the  business 
from  its  present  repulsive  aspect.”  — American  Booksellers'  Guide. 

“.  . . . Next  to  the  copyright  refc  rm,  the  one  thing  needed  by  the  publishing  trade 
is  the  abolition  of  the  present  outrageously  wasteful  system  of  “introducing  ” school 


CONCLUSION. 


43* 


favor,  they  would  at  once  provoke  the  hostilit}^  — 
cool,  vigilant,  business-like  — of  men  who  have 
many  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  invested  in 
books  — in  whole  systems  of  books — planned 
upon  radically  different  principles.  Until  some  man 
on  horseback  comes  and  purges  the  commonweal, 
it  always  will  be  necessary  to  fight  these  men  with 
their  own  weapons.  And  even  then  there  is  the 
fight  in  newspapers,  by  articles,  advertisements, 
and  opinions  from  eminent  gentlemen.  I have 
been  behind  the  scenes  enough  to  know  thoroughly 
how  all  this  business  is  managed,  and  I would  tell 
on  very  slight  provocation.  Why,  even  already 
the  priests  of  the  present  idols  have  begun  to  de- 
nounce a certain  pestilent  fellow,  and  their  crafts- 
men to  cry.  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians  ! 

To  publish,  with  any  chance  of  success,  a book 
intended  for  use  in  public  schools  has  become  a 
serious  commercial  and  political  undertaking ; and, 

books.  As  our  readers  probably  know,  it  is  the  almost  universal  custom  of  school- 
book publishers,  for  the  sake  of  getting  their  series  used  and  ousting  books  of  rival 
houses,  to  furnish  the  former  — at  least  the  first  lot  — at  even  below  cost  price,  and  to 
take  the  old  books  in  part  pay,  sending  them  to  the  junk  dealers.  Teachers  are  in- 
duced, by  the  smooth-tongued  agents  of  these  houses  and  the  large  commissions 
which  they  offer,  to  change  books  so  frequently  that  their  pupils  are  in  a constant 
state  of  perplexity,  while  the  waste  of  books  is  terrible,  and  all  the  publishers  have 
their  profits  more  than  half  eaten  up  by  the  necessary  outlays  and  recriminations. 
There  are  two  houses  in  this  country  each  of  which  loses  probably  between  two  and 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars  a year  in  this  way,  while  the  total  loss  to  publishers 
cannot  be  much  less  than  a million  dollars.  We  are  glad  to  be  able  to  state  that  a 
movement  is  now  on  foot,  which  bids  fair  to  succeed,  toward  doing  away  with  this 
great  evil.  Representatives  of  such  houses  as  Barnes,  Harper,  Appleton,  Sheldon, 
etc.,  of  this  city,  have  issued  an  invitation  to  twenty-one  firms  in  New  York,  thir- 
teen in  Philadelphia,  ten  in  Boston,  and  sixteen  elsew'here,  to  send  representatives  to 
meet  in  this  city  the  i6th  of  March,  and  continue  in  session  until  some  arrangement 
,s  made,  looking  to  more  sensible  and  profitable  relations  between  school-book  pub- 
lishers.” — Eventing  Mail. 

The  proposed  meeting  was  held,  and  measures  were  taken  which  may  possibly  put 
nn  end  to  this  reproach  to  the  book  trade,  and  to  the  schools,  public  and  private, 
throughout  the  country. 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


if  nothing  more  is  expected  for  it  than  its  introduc- 
tion into  pi'ivate  schools,  even  then  it  should  be  in 
the  hands  of  publishers  sufficiently  wealthy  and 
adroit  to  make  it  the  interest  of  teachers  to  adopt 
the  book  in  their  schools.  For  if  it  were  left  to  go 
upon  its  mere  merits,  it  would,  if  good,  of  course 
meet  with  a certain  sale  among  intelligent  and  hon- 
orable teachers  ; but  this  would  be  too  small  to  cause 
it  to  be  regarded  by  any  enterprising  publisher  as 
profitable  investment  of  money  and  labor.  For  these 
reasons  I fear  that  I must  be  content  with  dropping' 
what  I have  written  as  seed  into  the  ground,  hoping 
that  it  may  have  life  enough  to  grow  and  bring  forth 
fruit,  although  in  that  case  others  will  reap  the  har- 
vest. S/c  vos^  non  vobis. 


APPENDIX. 


I. 


HOW  THE  EXCEPTION  PROVES  THE  RULE. 

The  few  people  who  care  to  say  only  what  they 
mean,  and  who  therefore  think  about  what  they  say 
and  what  others  say  to  them,  must  sometimes  be  puzzled 
by  the  reply  often  made  to  an  objection,  “ Well,  he,  or 
that,  is  an  exception,  and  you  know  the  exception  proves 
the  rule.”  This  is  uttered  with  calm  assurance,  as  con- 
clusive of  the  question  at  issue,  and  is  usually  received 
in  silence  — with  an  air  of  indifferent  acquiescence  on 
the  part  of  the  thoughtless,  but  on  the  part  of  the  more 
thoughtful  with  a meek  expression  of  bewilderment. 
The  former  are  saved  from  the  trouble  of  further  mental 
exertion,  and  they  are  content ; the  latter  feel  that  they 
have  been  overcome  by  the  bringing  up  of  a logical  canon 
which  always  stands  ready  as  a reserve,  but  the  truth  of 
which,  admitted  as  indisputable,  they  would  like  very 
much  to  be  able  to  dispute.  In  fact,  this  pretentious 
maxim  infests  discussion,  and  pervades  the  every-day  talk 
of  men,  women,  and  children.  It  appears  in  the  writings 
of  historians,  of  essayists,  and  of  polemics,  as  well  as  in 
those  of  poets,  novelists,  and  journalists.  A legislator 
will  use  it  to  destroy  the  effect  of  an  instance  brought 
forward  which  is  directly  at  variance  with  some  general 
assertion  that  he  has  made.  “ The  case  so  strongly 

433 


434 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


insisted  ujion  by  the  honorable  gentleman  does  appar- 
ently show  that  all  women  do  not  desire  the  passage  of 
a law  joermitting  them  to  wear  trousers.  I admit  the 
preference  of  Miss  Pettitoes  for  petticoats.  But,  sir,  her 
case  is  an  exception,  and  we  all  know  that  the  exception 
proves  the  rule.”  It  enters  even  into  the  word-skirmish  of 
flirtation.  “ How  dare  you  assert,”  says  Miss  Demure  to 
Tom  Croesus,  defiance  on  her  lip  and  witchery  in  her  eye, 
‘‘  that  women  nowadays  are  all  mercenary  ! Don’t  you 
know  that  is  an  insult  to  me  “ Ah,  but.  Miss  Demure,” 
replies  the  weakly-struggling  Croesus,  “ you’re  an  excep- 
tion ; and  you  know  the  exception  proves  the  rule.” 
Whereupon  the  lady  submits  with  charming  grace  to  the 
conqueror,  having  within  her  innocent  breast  the  consol- 
ing conviction  that  she  is  playing  her  big  fish  with  a skill 
that  will  soon  lay  him  gasping  at  her  feet.  There  is  no 
turn  which  this  maxim  is  not  thus  made  to  serve  ; and 
this  use  of  it  has  gone  on  for  a century  and  more,  and 
people  submit  to  the  imposition  without  a murmur. 

An  imposition  the  maxim  is,  of  the  most  impudent 
kind,  in  its  ordinary  use  ; for  a mere  exception  never 
proved  a rule  ; and  that  it  should  do  so  is,  in  the  very 
nature  of  things,  and  according  to  the  laws  of  right  rea> 
son,  impossible.  Consider  a moment.  How  can  the 
fact  that  one  man,  or  one  thing,  of  a certain  class,  has  cer- 
tain traits  or  relations,  prove  that  others  of  the  same  class 
have  opposite  traits  and  other  relations  ? A says,  “ I,  and 
C,  and  D,  and  X,  and  Y,  and  Z are  white  ; therefore  all 
the  other  letters  of  the  alphabet  are  white.”  “No,  they 
are  not,”  B answers,  “ for  I am  black.”  “ O,  you  are  an 
exception,”  A rejoins,  “ and  the  exception  proves  the 
rule.”  And  A and  most  of  his  hearers  thereupon  regard 
the  argument  as  concluded,  at  least  for  the  time  being. 
The  supposed  example  is  an  extreme  one,  but  it  serves 
none  the  less  the  purposes  of  fair  illustration.  For  of 
what  value,  as  evidence,  upon  the  color  ol  the  alphabet^ 


APPENDIX. 


435 


is  the  fact  that  B is  black?  It  merely  shows  that  one 
letter  is  black,  and  that  any  other  may  be  black,  except 
those  which  we  know  to  be  of  some  other  color.  But 
of  the  color  of  the  remaining  twenty-three  letters  it  tells 
us  nothing ; and  so  far  from  supporting  the  assertion  that 
because  A,  C,  D,  X,  Y,  and  Z are  white,  all  the  other  let- 
ters  are  white,  it  warrants  the  inference  that  some  of  them 
may  be  black  also.  And  yet  day  after  day,  for  a hundred 
and  hfty  years,*  men  of  fair  intelligence  have  gone  on 
thoughtlessly  citing  this  maxim,  and  yielding  to  its  au- 
thority when  used  exactly  as  it  is  used  in  the  case  above 
supposed. 

For  instance,  the  following  passage  is  from  a leading 
article  in  the  “ New  York  Tribune  : ” — 

“ The  business  of  printing  books  is  now  leaving  the  great 
cities  for  more  economical  and  more  desirable  locations.  The 
exceptions  rather  prove  the  rule  than  invalidate  it.” 

How  do  the  exceptions  either  prove  or  invalidate  the 
rule  ? In  what  way  does  the  fact  that  there  are  some 
printing  offices  in  Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia 
prove  that  printers  generally  choose  the  smaller  towns  or 
the  country?  Plainly,  one  of  these  facts  has  no  relations 
whatever  to  the  other. 

In  “ Lothair,”  Mr.  Disraeli  makes  Hugo  Bohun  say 
that  he  respects  the  institution  of  marriage,  but  thinks 
that  “ every  woman  should  marry,  but  no  man,”  and  to 
the  objection  that  this  view  would  not  work  practically, 
feply,  — 

“ Well,  my  view  is  a social  problem,  and  social  problems  are 
the  fashion  at  present.  It  would  be  solved  through  the  excep- 
tions, which  prove  the  principle.  In  the  first  place,  there  are 
your  swells,  who  cannot  avo'd  the  halter  — you  are  booked 
when  3^ou  are  born ; and  then  there  are  moderate  men,  like 
myself, -who  have  their  weak  moments,”  etc.,  etc. 

* The  date  of  its  first  appearance  in  literature  or  the  records  of  colloquial  speech 
I do  not  profess  to  know ; but  I cannot  recollect  an  instance  of  its  use  earlier  tiuiu 
(he  days  of  the  Queen  Anne  essayists. 


43^ 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


Perhaps  Mr.  Bohim  or  Mr.  Disraeli  could  explain  how 
the  fact  that  the  natures  or  the  circumstances  of  some 
men  are  such  that  they  are  likely  to  marry  “ proves  the 
principle  ” that  men  should  not  marry.  But  .o  the  eye 
of  unassisted  reason,  it  is  merely  evidence  in  favor  of  the 
positive  proposition,  that  whatever  men  should  do,  seme 
will  marry : it  does  nothing  toward  showing  that  other 
men  should,  or  should  not,  either  marry  or  do  anything 
else.  If  the  proposition  were  that  only  men  of  cer- 
tain natures  and  circumstances  should  marry,  and  it 
were  found  that  in  general  only  they  did  marry,  there 
would  at  least  be  a connection  between  the  facts  and 
the  proposition ; which,  in  Mr.  Bohun’s  argument,  there 
is  not. 

The  London  “ Spectator,”  in  one  of  the  few  discrimi- 
nating judgements  that  have  recently  been  published  of 
Dickens’s  genius,  thus  supports  the  opinion  that  he  was 
unable  to  express  the  finer  emotions  naturally : — 

“In  the  delineation  of  remorse  he  is,  too,  much  nearer  the 
truth  of  emotion  than  in  the  delineation  of  grief.  True  grief 
needs  the  most  delicate  hand  to  delineate  [it]  truly.  A touch 
too  much,  and  jou  perceive  an  affectation,  and  therefore  miss 
the  whole  effect  of  bereavement.  But  remorse,  when  it  is 
genuine,  is  one  of  the  simplest  of  passions,  and  the  most  diffi- 
cult to  overpaint.  Dickens,  with  his  singular  power  of  lavish- 
ing himself  on  one  mood,  has  given  some  vivid  pictures  of  this 
passion  which  deserve  to  live.  Still,  this  is,  the  exception, 
which  proves  the  rule.  lie  can  delineate  remorse  for  murder, 
because  there  is  so  little  real  limit  to  the  feeling,  so  little  danger 
of  passing  from  the  true  to  the  falsetto  tone.” 

Now,  in  what  way  does  the  fact  that. Dickens  had  the 
power  of  delineating  one  of  the  simple  passions  prove  that 
he  had  not  the  power  of  delineating  the  more  complex.^ 
Plainl}^,  it  does  nothing  — can  do  nothing  of  the  sort, 
unless  by  the  introduction,  as  a premise,  of  the  postulate 
that  writers  who  can  delineate  simple  passions  cannot 
delineate  the  complex ; which  is  not  true,  and  whicJi  is 


APPENDIX. 


437 


« 

not  implied.  Such  passages  as  this  are  mere  examples 
of  the  habit  into  which  the  most  intelligent  writers  and 
critics  have  fallen  of  regarding  an  exception  not  mere- 
ly as  an  exception,  a phenomenon  which  is  the  conse- 
quence of  exceptional  conditions,  and  there  an  end^ 
but  as  a proof  of  the  rule  which  they  wish  to  establish, 
and  wlrich  the  “ exception  ” would  otherwise  seem  to 
invalidate. 

This  habit  has  arisen,  dt  would  seem,  out  of  a slight 
perversion  of  a word.  For,  although  an  exception  does  not 
and  cannot  prove  a rule,  the  word  exception  being  used 
in  its  ordinary  sense,  the  exception  does  prove  the  rule, 
the  word  being  used  in  its  proper  sense.  The  fallacious 
use  of  the  maxim  is  based  on  the  substitution  of  a real 
substantive,  that  is,  a substantive  meaning  a thing,  for  a 
verbal  substantive,  that  is,  a substantive  meaning  an  act. 
The  maxim,  as  we  have  it,  is  merely  a misleading  trans- 
lation of  the  old  lav/  maxim,  Exceptio  probat  regulajiiy 
which  itself  is,  if  not  mutilated,  at  least  imperfect.  Now, 
Exceptio  probat  regulam  does  not  mean  that  the\hing 
excepted  proves  the  rule,  but  that  the  excepting  proves 
the  rule.  Exceptio  was  translated,  and  rightly  enough, 
exception.  But  what  was  the  meaning  of  that  word 
when  the  translation,  was  made What  is  its  primitive 
meaning  now.^  It  is  the  act  of  excepting  or  excluding 
from  a number  designated,  or  from  a description.  Ex-' 
ceptio  in  Latin,  exception  in  English,  means  not  a person 
or  a thing,  but  an  act ; and  it  is  this  act  which  proves  a 
rule.  But  we,  having  come  to  use  exception  to  mean 
the  person  or  the  thing  excepted,  receive  the  maxim 
as  meaning,  not  that  the  excepting  proves  the  rule,  but 
the  person  or  thing  excepted  ; and  upon  this  confusion 
of  words  we  graft  a corresponding  confusion  of  thought. 
The  maxim,  in  its  proper  signification,  \s  as  true  as  it  is 
untrue  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  now  almost  universally 
used. 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


438 

I have  said  that,  if  not  mutilated,  it  is  at  least  imper- 
fect. I am  unable  to  cite  an  instance  of  its  use  in  any 
other  form  than  that  under  which  it  is  now  known  ; but 
it  exists  in  my  mind,  whether  from  memory  or  from  an 
unconscious  filling  ujd  of  its  indicated  outlines,  in  this 
form  : Exceptio  ■probat  regula'in^  de  rebus  non  exceptls; 
i.  e.,  the  excepting  proves  the  rule  concerning  those  things 
which  are  not  excepted.  The  soundness  of  the  maxim 
in  this  form,  and  the  reason  for  its  soundness,  will  be 
apparent  on  a moment’s  consideration.  Suppose  that, 
in  a book  of  travels,  we  should  find  this  passage  : “ Here 
I saw  large  flocks  of  birds  in  the  cornfields  cawing  and 
tearing  up  the  young  corn.  In  one  flock,  two  of  these 
birds  were  white.”  The  conclusion  warranted  by  this 
account  would  be,  that  there  were  crows,  or  birds  like 
crows,  in  the  country  visited  by  the  writer,  and  that  these 
crows  were  generally  black.  The  writer  would  not  have 
said  that  the  birds  were  black,  but  his  exception  of  two 
which  were  white  would  go  to  prove  that,  “ as  a rule” 
(according  to  our  idiom),  the  birds  were  black,  or  at  least 
not  white.  His  exception  of  the  two  would  prove  the 
rule  as  to  the  others.  Exceptio  probat  regulam^  de  rebus 
non  exceptis.  Again,  if  we  knew  nothing  about  the  ele- 
phant, but  were  to  learn  that  the  King  of  Siam,  when  he 
wished  to  ruin  a courtier,  distinguished  him  by  sending 
him  a white  elephant,  — a present  which  .he  could  not 
refuse,  although  the  provision  for  the  proper  lodging  of 
the  beast  and  attendance  on  him  was  sure  to  eat  up  a 
private  fortune,  — we  should  be  told  nothing  about  ele- 
phants in  general ; yet  we  should  know,  without  further 
information,  that  they  were  dark  colored,  because  of  the 
implied  exception  of  the  white  elephant. 

The  maxim  in  question  is  akin  to  another  recognized 
in  law : Expressio  unius^  exclusio  alter ius ; i.  e.,  the 
expression  of  one  (mode  or  person)  is  the  exclusion  of 
another.  This  maxim  is  no  legal  fiction  or  refinement’ 


APPENDIX. 


439 


it  is  dictated  b}  common  sense,  and  is  a guide  of  action 
in  daily  life.  If  we  see  on  the  posters  of  a museum  or  a 
circus,  “ Admission  for  children  accompanying  their  par- 
ents, Fifteen  cents,”  we  know  at  once  that  children  with- 
out their  parents  are  either  not  admitted  at  all,  or  mv.  st 
pay  full  price.  Children  themselves  act  intuitively  upon 
the  reasoning  embodied  in  this  maxim.  If  a parent  or  a 
teacher  should  go  to  a room  full  of  children,  and  say, 
“John  may  come  and  take  a walk  with  me,”  they  would 
know,  witlwut  the  telling,  that  all  except  John  were  ex- 
pected to  remain.  They  know  this  just  as  well  as  any 
lawyer  or  statesman  knows  that,  when  a constitution  pro- 
vides for  its  own  amendment  in  one  way,  that  very  provis- 
ion was  meant  to  exclude  all  other  methods.  The  child 
and  the  statesman  both  act  in  accordance  with  the  maxim, 
Expressio  tmius^  exchisio  alte7'ius.  Both  this  maxim 
and  the  one  which  is  the  subject  of  the  present  article  are 
founded  upon  the  intuitive  perception  common  to  men 
of  all  times  and  races,  and  which  is  developed,  as  we 
have  seen,  in  the  very  earliest  exercise  of  the  reasoning 
powers,  that  an  exclusive  affirmation  implies  a corre- 
sponding negation. 

A rare  modern  instance  of  another  and  really  logical 
use  of  the  maxim,  that  the  exception  proves  the  rule,  is 
furnished  by  Boswell  in  one  of  his  trivial  stories  about 
Doctor  Johnson.  It  was  disputed  one  evening,  when  the 
Doctor  was  present,  whether  the  woodcock  were  a mi- 
gratory bird.  To  the  arguments  in  favor  of  the  theory 
of  migration,  some  one  replied  that  argument  was  of 
little  weight  against  the  fact  that  some  woodcocks  had 
been  found  in  a certain  county  in  the  depth  of  winter. 
Doctor  Johnson  immediately  rejoined,  “ That  supports 
the  argument.  The  fact  that  a few  were  found  shows 
that,  if  the  bulk  had  not  migrated,  many  would  have 
oeen  found.  Exceftio  pfobat  I'egulamT 

Johnson  himself  affords  another  example  of  the  same 


44C 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


use  of  the  maxim.  In  the  Preface  to  his  edition  of 
Shakespeare’s  works,  he  opposes  and  ridicules  those 
critics  who  have  supposed  that  they  discovered  in  Shake- 
speare imitations  of  ancient  writers,  and  that  these  were 
evidence  of  great  learning.  He  says,  — 

“ There  are  a few  passages  which  may  pass  for  imitations, 
but  so  few  that  the  exception  only  confirms  the  rule.  He  ob- 
tained them  from  accidental  quotation  or  by  oral  communica- 
tion, and,  as  he  used  what  he  had,  would  have  used  more  if  he 
had  obtained  it.” 

Yet  another  instructive  example  of  the  use  of  this 
maxim  is  found  in  the  following  passage  from  Cowper’s 
“ Tirocinium,  or  Review  of  Schools  : ” — 

“ See  volunteers  in  all  the  vilest  arts. 

Men  well  endowed  with  honorable  parts, 

Designed  by  Nature  wise,  but  self-made  fools; 

All  these,  and  more  like  these,  were  made  at  schools. 
And  if  by  chance,  as  sometimes  chance  it  will, 

That,  though  school-bred,  the  boy  is. virtuous  still. 
Such  rare  exceptions,  shining  in  the  dark. 

Prove  rather  than  impeach  the  just  remark. 

As  here  and  there  a twinkling  star  descried 
Serves  but  to  show  how  black  is  all  beside.” 

According  to  the  common  use  of  the  maxim,  the  infer- 
ence from  this  passage  would  be,  that  a few  virtuous 
school-bred  men  prove,  not  what  they  are  evidence  of, 
that  virtuous  men  may  be  bred  at  school,  but  that  the 
rule  is,  that  school-breeding  is  dangerous  to  virtue ! But 
they  prove  that,  if  they  prove  it  at  all,  by  “ shining  in  the 
dark  ; ” that  is,  the  surrounding  vileness  points  them  out 
as  peculiar  and  solitary : it  excepts  them ; and  this  ex- 
cepting {cxccptio)  as  to  them  proves  the  rule  as  to  the 
mass. 

The  common  use  of  this  maxim  is  worthy  only  of 
idiots,  for  it  involves  idiotic  reasoning ; a good  example 


APPENDIX. 


441 


of  which  would  be  the  application  of  the  maxim  to  the 
following  criticism  of  two  political  conventions  : — 

“ We  dare  say,  if  the  truth  were  all  known,  there  would  be  little 
to  choose  between  the  two  conventions  in  point  of  morals  or 
manners.  Doubtless  there  were  high-minded  and  able  gentle- 
men in  both,  but  we  fear  such  were  the  exception,  and  not  the 
rule.” 

Now,  if  the  exception  proves  the  rule,  those  excep- 
tions, that  is,  those  high-minded  and  able  gentlemen 
would  of  themselves  be  evidence  that  the  rest  were  not 
able  and  high-minded.  Another  characteristic  example 
would  be  the  following:  — It  is  declared  that  all  men  are 
totally  depraved.  But  we  find  that  A is  not  totally  de- 
praved. But  this  only  shows  that  A is  an  exception,  and 
his  not  being  totally  depraved  proves  the  rule  of  total 
depravity.  That  such  an  application  of  the  maxim  should 
be  made  day  after  day  for  generations  among  people  of 
moderate  sense  is  striking  evidence,  on  the  one  hand,  of 
the  way  in  which  the  modification  of  meaning  in  a word 
may  cause  a perversion  of  an  established  formula  of 
thought ; and,  on  the  other,  of  the  supineness  with  which 
people  will  submit  to  the  authority  of  a maxim  which 
sounds  wise  and  has  the  vantage-ground  of  age,  partic- 
ularly if  they  cannot  quite  understand  it,  and  it  saves 
them  the  trouble  of  thinking.  Let  any  man  invent  such 
a maxim,  and  use  well  good  opportunities  of  asserting  it, 
and  he  may  be  pretty  sure  that  his  work,  if  not  himself, 
will  attain  a very  considerable  degree  of  what  is  called 
immortality.  The  fafiure  of  such  a maxim  to  be  accepted 
as  conclusive  would  be  a sign  of  the  decline  of  that  peculiar 
mode  of  reasoning  which  would  insist  upon  this  failure 
itself  as  an  exception  that  proved  the  rule  to  which  it  did 
not  conform,  and  of  the  reestablishment  of  that  other 
mode  which  claims  that,  in  general,  the  excepting  proves 
the  rule  concerning  that  which  is  not  excepted. 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


II. 


CONTROVERSY. 

PEIIHAPS  the  following  letter,  which  was  published 
in  “ The  Round  Table”  of  February  27,  1869,  and 
the  reply,  which  appeared  in  the  next  number  of  the 
same  paper,  may  interest,  or  at  least  amuse,  some  of  the 
readers  of  this  volume.  I may  say  here  without  impro- 
priety, I hope,  that  the  articles  on  Words  and  their  Uses 
which  appeared  in  “ The  Galaxy  ” were,  as  is  customary 
with  me,  written  in  haste  and  under  the  pressure  of  a cry 
for  copy  from  the  printing  office.  Although  the  series 
extended  through  two  years,  not  one  of  them  was  begun 
before  that  cry  was  heard,  or  was  ready  one  hour  before 
the  last  minute  when  the  article  could  be  received  ; a:^d 
the  manuscript  was  sent  off  to  the  printer  with  the  ink 
damp  upon  the  last  page.  It  was  put  in  type  that  day, 
and  the  next  was  stereotyped.  Throughout  the  whole 
series  I did  not  rewrite  a single  page,  or,  I believe,  a sin- 
gle sentence.  I generally  saw  a proof,  which  I corrected 
at  my  business  office  within  the  hour  of  its  receipt ; but 
sometimes  I did  not.  One  of  those  cases  in  which  I did 
not  see  a proof  was  made  the  occasion  of  the  following 
communication.  I do  not  offer  this  confession  as  an 
excuse  or  defence  of  any  essential  error.  A critic  can 
concern  himself  only  with  what  is  produced  : he  cannot 
take  into  consideration  the  circumstances  of  its  produc- 
tion, even  if  he  knows  them.  It  would  have  been  wef 
if  the  articles  had  been  written  more  deliberately,  and 
corrected  more  carefully;  but  had  I waited  till  I could 


APPENDIX. 


4-43 


do  that,  they  would,  in  all  probability,  not  have  been 
wiitten  at  all ; which  alternative  is  doubtless  the  one  that 
would  have  been  preferred  by  my  censor.  In  choosing 
a specimen  of  the  attacks  to  which  these  articles  subjected 
me  (from  all  of  which  I tried  to  learn  something,  but  to 
only  two  or  three  of  which  I made  any  reply),  I have 
taken  his,  because  he  was  very  much  the  ablest  and  most 
learned  of  my  critics  : — 

STAND-POINT,  ETC. 

To  THE  Editor  of  the  Round  Table. 

Sir  : I noticed  in  your  issue  of  January  9 a letter  from 
“ J.  B.”  upon  the  word  stand-pointy  condemning  it  as  an 
exploded  heresy,  and  moralizing  upon  the  “ total  depravity 
of  human  nature  ” which  after  such  an  explosion  could 
still  countenance  the  heresy.  Your  correspondent  informs 
the  world  that  “ Mr.  White  recently  in  the  “ Galaxy,”  and 
Mr.  Gould,  at  greater  length,  in  “ Good  English,”  ha’^’-e 
thoroughly  analyzed  and  exposed  ” “ the  literary  abor- 
tion.” Such  language,  so  unlike  that  of  a man  of  schol- 
arship or  culture,  led  me  to  think  that  perhaps  your 
correspondent  did  not  know  very  much  of  etymology 
after  all,  and  that  his  pitying  contempt  might  be  nothing 
more  than  a cloak  for  sciolism  or  ignorance.  So,  being 
somewhat  interested  in  the  kite  of  the  word  stand-pointy 
I gave  “J.  B.’s”  letter  a second  reading,  and  found  my 
suspicions  verified.  He  says,  — 

“The  two  words  stand  and  point  cannot  be  grammatically 
joined  together ; the  first  word  must  be  changed  to  a participle  in 
order  to  make  them  legally  united.  Stand/V/^-point  is  English.” 

From  this  it  is  evident  that  “ J.  B.”  thinks  the  former 
half  of  the  word  standhzg-point  to  be  a participle ; so 
also  of  turnizig-pohzty  landing-place y etc.  What  will 
he  say  when  it  is  suggested  to  him  that  in  each  of  these 
compounds  the  former  element  is  a substantive,  and  not 
a participle,  and  that  a participle  placed  before  a noun  in 


444 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


English,  whether  to  form  a compound  or  not,  always 
qualifies  the  noun — becomes,  in  fact,  an  adjective? 
yuinpmg-jack^  dancing-girl^  are  examples  of  com- 
pounds formed  of  a qualifying  participle  and  a noun,  for 
dancmg-girl  means  a girl  who  dances.  Shunhling- 
hlock^  on  the  contrary,  does  not  mean  a block  that  stum- 
bles, nor  does  turning-point  mean  a point  that  turns,  or 
landing-place  a place  that  lands.  The  words  mean  re- 
spectively a block  which  causes  stumbling  {stmnhling  is 
used  as  a noun  i John  ii.  lo),  a point  at  which  turning 
(or  a turn)  takes  place,  a place  for  landing  (=disembar- 
kation).  On  the  same  analogy  is  formed  the  word  stand- 
ifZg-point^  which  means  not  a point  which  stands,  but  a 
point  where  one  takes  his  stand,  standiizg  being  a noun, 
and  not  a participle.  But  stands  as  the  phrase  “ takes 
his  stand”  shows,  is  as  good  a noun  as  standings  and 
has  the  additional  advantage  of  not  being  ambiguous,  as 
the  latter  is.  “ J.  B.,”  however,  evidently  thinks  that  in 
the  word  stand-poiat^  stand  must  necessarily  be  part  of 
a verb,  inasmuch  as  he  talks  about  turning  it  into  a par- 
ticiple. Now  he  must  know,  for  he  has  read  Mr.  White’s 
remarks  in  the  Galaxy^  that  stazzd-pomt  is  an  Anglicized 
form  of  the  German  Standpimkt.  If  he  were  acquainted 
with  German,  he  would  know  that  in  that  word  the  for- 
mer element,  Stazid^  is  a noun  ; were  it  a verb,  the  word 
would  be  Stehpunkt^  on  the  analogy  of  Drehhank^  Wohn- 
zimi7zer^  and  so  forth.  This  being  so,  why,  if  we  may 
say  play-ground^  bath-roozn^  death-bed^  may  we  not  say 
stazzd-point?  Even  supposing  the  former  half  were  a 
verb,  v/hy  might  we  not  admit  the  compound  on  the 
analogy  oi’  go-cart^  wash-tub^  thresh-old^  dyc-hozise? 
So  much  for  the  form  of  the  word.  But  “ J.  B.”  pro- 
ceeds : — 

“ Standing-point  is  English;  but  the  difficulty  with  that  is. 
that  nobodv  can  be  fooled  into  believing  that  it  means  ‘ point  of 
view.'  Hence  it  cannot. replace  which  people  foo 

them&eives  into  believing  does  mean  ‘point  of  view.”' 


APPENDIX. 


445 


Now,  it  is  well  to  remark  that  fomt  of  view  is  not  an 
indigenous  English  expression  any  more  than  sta/^d- 
fohit  is.  It  is  simply  a verbal  translation  of  the  French 
pol7it  de  vue^  and  cannot  plead  analogy  in  justification 
of  its  adoption  to  the  same  extent  as  stand-foint  can^ 
Viewpoint  or  viewing-point  would  be  more  correct. 
I am  aware  that  we  can  say  point  of  attack ; but  that, 
also,  is  a translation  of  the  Yxench  point  d'‘ attaque.  So 
far,  then,  as  tire  origin  and  form  of  the  expressions  stand* 
pohtt  and  point  of  view  are  concerned,  stand-point  has 
a decided  advantage.  It  is  also  the  more  convenient  ex- 
pression, and  the  only  thing,  therefore,  that  remains  to 
be  decided  with  regard  to  it  is,  whether  it  gives  any  in- 
telligible signification.  When  I say,  “ Viewed  from  a 
scientific  stand-point,  it  is  false  ” ( Vom  wissenschaftli* 
chen  Sta7idpiinkt  angesehe7t^  ist  es  falscJi)^  what  do  I 
mean?  Simply,  “Viewed  from  the  position  occupied 
by  science,  it  is  false.”  Here  stand-point  has  not  the 
meaning  oi point  of  view ; and,  indeed,  I doubt  whether 
it  ever  has  precisely.  There  is  no  other  word  in  the 
Engli  sh  language  that  will  exactly  express  the  meaning 
of  stajid-pomt^  as  any  one  may  convince  himself  by  try- 
ing to  express  otherwise  the  phrase,  “ The  stand-point 
of  philosophy  is  different  from  that  of  science.”  “ The 
philosophical  point  of  view  is  different  from  the  scientific  ” 
has  quite  a different  signification. 

After  convincing  myself  of  the  inaccuracy  of  “J.  B.’s" 
remarks  on  the  word  stand-pointy  I thought  I should  like 
to  know  what  Mr.  White  had  to  say  about  it.  Accord, 
mgiy,  I procured  a copy  of  the  number  of  the  Galaxy 
contaiiiing  the  article  in  which  his  remarks  on  the  word 
occur.  These  I found  very  temperate,  and  I regretted 
that  I could  not  agree  with  him.  But  when  I came  to 
read  the  rest  of  his  article,  T found  so  many  indications 
of  want  of  profound  knowledge  and  scholar-like  accuracy, 
tijiit  I bade  my  regrets  farewell.  To  give  an  instance  or 


446 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


two.  In  speaking  of  the  word  telegram^  which  he  does 
not  seem  to  know  is  altogether  an  incorrect  formation, 
he  says,  — 

“If  engrave  (from  en  and  grafho)  gives  us  rightly  engraver 
and  e?igraving,  photograph  or  photograve  should  give  us  pho- 
tographer and  photographings  and  telegraphs  telegraphers 
telegraph  ing.” 

This  would  be  true  if  engrave  did  come  from  Iv  and 
yQucpbt^’  but  it  does  not,  and  only  a person  profoundly 
ignorant  of  English  etymology  could  have  supposed  that 
it  did.  In  the  first  place,  the  existence  of  the  verb  grave 
as  a verb  (see  Chaucer,  “ Troilus  and  Creseide,”  Book  II., 
Proeme,  line  47,  “ Eke  some  men  grave  in  tre,  som  in 
stone  wall.”  Ibid,  Book  III.,  line  146S,  etc.)  and  the 
form  of  the  participle  engraven  might  have  sufficed  to 
convince  Mr.  White  that  the  word  engrave  was  of  Saxon 
origin.  A very  common  verb  in  Anglo-Saxon  is  grafan 
{con],  gr of e^  grofsgrafen')^  e.g.^  Psalm  Ixxvii.  58  [Eng* 
lish  version  Ixxviii.  58]  : — 

“ Sva  hi  his  yrre  oft  avcahtan, 
bonne  hi  oferhjdig  up-ahofan 
and  him  vohgodu  vorhtan  and  grdfan." 

The  forms^r(a;^^e  and  igraue^t  occur  in  Layamon,^rf3!2^^, 
grauea.^  (and  grat/ed)  in  Middle-English,  and 

graves  graved^  graven  graved]  in  Modern  English. 

It  is  only  in  comparatively  recent  times  that  the  comjoound 
engrave  has  replaced  the  simple  verb.  It  is  no  doubt 
true  that  grave  is  from  the  same  root  as  )g(!c(pii)^  but  that 
is  quite  a different  thing  from  saying  that  it  is  derived 
from  YQicq:M.  It  is  the  same  as  the  Mceso-Gothic  grahan 
(see  Ulfilas,  Luke  vi.  48.  Galeiks  i'st  maim  timrjandin 
razn.  saei  groh  jah  gadiupida,  etc.).  Old  Saxon  bigrahans 
Old  Frankish  greva  (whence  modern  French  graver]  y 
Swedish  gi'iifvas  graf^  Danish  grave^  German  grahan^ 
Spanish  grabar.  I hope  this  is  sufficient  to  show  that 


APPENDIX. 


447 


the  word  efigrave  is  not  of  Greek  origin.  But  apart 
from  these  considerations,  Mr.  White  ought  to  liave  kno>vn 
at  what  period  Greek  words  began  to  be  transferred  di- 
rectly into  English.  In  the  year  1500  there  were  proba- 
bly but  four  men  in  all  England  who  knew  anything  of 
Greek. 

Under  the  head  of  Enquire^  Enclose^  Endorse^  Mr. 
White  says,  — 

“ A much-respected  correspondent  urges  the  condemnation  of 
these  words,  and  the  advocacy  of  their  disuse,  because  they  are 
respectively  from  the  Latin  inqiiiro^  ijicludo,  and  in  dorsum,  and 
should,  therefore,  be  written  inquire,  inclose,  indorse.  He  is  in 
error.  They  are,  to  be  sure,  of  Latin  origin,  but  remotely;  they 
came  to  us  directly  from  the  French  enquirer,  encloser,  and  en- 
dosser.’" 

There  is,  no  doubt,  a verb  endosser.,  but  who  ever  heard 
of  such  monstrosities  as  enquirer  and  encloser?  Only 
writers  v/ho,  in  their  ignorance  of  French  and  of  the 
primary  principles  of  etymology,  coin  them  out  of  their 
own  brain.  The  French  verbs  corresponding  to  enqtiire 
and  enclose  are  enquerir  and  enclore.  These  are  writ- 
ten with  various  orthographies,  it  is  true,  but  never  as  Mr. 
White  writes  them.  His  remark  notwithstanding,  Chau- 
cer and  his  contemporaries  wrote  eiiquest.,  enquere.,  sel- 
dom enquyre. 

Mr.  White  very  modestly  confesses,  — 

“ My  having  in  Sanskrit,  like  Orlando’s  beard,  is  a youngei 
brother’s  revenue  — what  I can  glean  from  the  well-worked  fields 
of  my  elders  and  betters.” 

That  he  might  have  said  as  much,  or  even  more,  of  his 
English  and  French,  judging  them  by  the  particular  arti- 
cle under  consideration,  I think  I have  shown  abundantly. 

I am  almost  tempted  to  leave  his  Latin  unimpeached,  to 
spare  him  “ the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all ; ’’  but  I cannot. 

II  a ferdu  son  latin.  Undei  the  head  of  the  word  Re‘ 
liable.,  he  says,  — 

27 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


“ This  view  of  laughable  seems  to  be  supported  by  the  fact 
that  the  counterpart  of  that  adjective,  risible^  is  not  formed  from 
the  verb  video  — to  laugh  (although,  of  course,  derived  from  it); 
but  from  the  noun  visum  — a laugh,  or  laughter.” 

I should  like  to  ask  Mr.  White,  first,  whether  he  knows 
that  video  means  I laugh  at  as  well  as  I laugh;  second, 
whether  he  does  not  know  that  adjectives  in  bills  are 
sometimes  formed  from  the  stem  of  the  supine  as  well  as 
from  that  of  the  present  of  verbs ; third,  in  what  Latin 
author  he  ever  found  the  noun  risit7n^  meaning  a laugh  or 
laughter ; fourth,  what  risibilis  means  in  Latin. 

It  would  be  easy  to  show  ignorance  of  languages  on 
the  part  of  public  instructors  by  many  more  examples, 
but  I think  the  above  will  suffice  to  make  evident  the  fact 
that  their  knowledge  is  often  of  the  flimsiest  kind.  There 
are,  unfortunately,  in  this  country  a large  number  of  pe* 
sons  who  get  a reputation  for  learning  simply  because 
they  have  the  presumption  to  write  on  learned  subjects ; 
their  statements  pass  among  the  multitude  unchallenged, 
because  the  country  lacks  a learned  class,  which,  by  its 
very  presence,  might  deter  sciolists  from  disgracing  them- 
selves by  exhibitions  of  ignorance  and  presumption.  I 
wait  and  hope  for  better  things. 

Yours  very  faithfully,  ^ ^ 

January  30,  1869. 

MR.  GRANT  WHITE  CONFESSES. 

To  THE  Editor  of  the  Round  Table. 

Sir:  The  “Round  Table’*  of  February  27,  which 
reached  me  only  this  morning,  contains  a communica- 
tion, the  purpose  of  which  is,  first,  to  maintain  that  staiid^ 
pomt  is  a nice  English  compound,  and  last  (this  being 
the  gist  of  the  matter),  to  make  the  little  argument  on 
stand-pomt  the  start-point  of  a tilt  against  me,  overthrow- 
ing entirely  my  credit  for  knowledge  of  Latin,  Frencli, 
English,  and  other  things  in  general,  and  ending  in  a 


APPENDIX. 


449 


denunciation  of  “the  public  instructors”  and  “ the  mul- 
titude” of  “this  country;”  which  goal,  when  comforta- 
bly reached,  is  my  assailant’s  sit-point. 

That  your  readers  may  know  whom  I mean,  I will  say 
that  the  article  to  which  I refer  is  signed  with  the  strange 
characters  “ & ^,”  which,  as  nearly  as  I am  able  to  dis- 
cover, are  two  Greek  letters,  named  iheta  and  delta. 
Even  to  a person  less  ignorant  than  I am,  these  charac- 
ters would  only  conceal  the  identity  of  an  assailant  who 
calls  me  out  by  my  own  name.  But  perhaps  he  hid  his 
full  terrors  in  kindness  to  me,  or  it  did  not  suit  his  own 
purpose  to  let  me  know  who  it  is  that  is  hunting  me  for 
the  amusement  of  the  public ; for  in  the  latter  case  I 
might  have  seen  that  I was  what  the  more  learned  boys 
at  my  school  called  a “ 70^  and  have  come  down  at 
once,  thus  spoiling  sport. 

As  to  stand-foint^  I shall  have  no  dispute  with  him. 
I shall  merely  ask  to  be  allowed  to  say  “ from  a scientific 
point  of  view,”  instead  of  “ viewed  from  a scientific  stand- 
point,” and  “ the  position  of  philosophy,”  instead  of  “ the 
stand-point  of  philosophy.”  But  I hope  that  it  will  not 
be  looked  upon  by  “ 0 ” as  an  instance  of  my  presump- 

tion, that  I protest  against  his  telling  “J.  B.”  that  he 
“ must  know,  he  has  read  Mr.  White’s  remarks  in 
the  Galaxy^  that  stand-point  is  an  Anglicized  form  of 
the  German  Stand-punkt^  That  I said  no  such  thing 
as  to  the  origin  of  the  compound  in  question,  will  be  seen 
oy  this  repetition  from  the  “ Galaxy  ” of  what  I did  say  : — 

“ Stand-point.  — To  saj  the  best  of  it,  this  is  a poor  com- 
pound. It  receives  some  support,  but  not/ull  justification,  from 
the  German  Stand-punht'^ 

“ 0 ^ ” may  think  that  because  two  similar  word-com- 
binations or  phrases  exist  in  two  languages,  one  must  be 
formed  by  a mere  phonetic  cnange  (in  this  case  an  An- 
glicization)  of  the  other.  Such  is  not  my  view  of  the 
formation  of  language.  If  your  correspondent  will  con- 


450 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


suit  some  elementary  philological  work,  he  will  learn 
that  like  forms  of  expressioi  are  found  in  languages  which 
are  not  only  without  kindred,  but  without  contact ; and 
that  such  forms,  being  developed  according  to  mental 
laws  common  to  the  race,  are  said  to  support  each  other. 

Your  correspondent  again  misrepresents  me  by  sa3'ing 
that  I do  not  seem  to  know  “ that  telegratn  is  altogethe? 
an  incorrect  formation.”  Here  is  what  I did  say  : — 

“Telegram. — This  word,  claimed  as  an  ‘American’  inven- 
tion, has  taken  root  quickly,  and  is  probably  well  fixed  in  the 
language.  It  is  convenient,  and  is  correctly  enough  formed  to 
pass  muster.” 

I have  mistaken  the  force  of  my  language  if  it  did  not 
convey  to  my  readers,  every  one  of  them,  that  in  my 
judgement  telegram  is  an  incorrectly  formed  word,  but 
that  the  irregularity  is  of  a kind  not  worth  making  a point 
about. 

‘‘0  ^ ” says,  in  relation  to  my  remarks  on  the  etymol- 
ogy  of  eitquire^  enclose^  and  e^idorse^  — 

“There  is,  no  doubt,  a verb  endosser,  but  who  ever  heard  of 
such  monstrosities  as  enquirer  and  encloser  f Only  writers  who, 
in  their  ignorance  of  French  and  of  the  primary  principles  of 
etymology,  coin  them  out  of  their  own  brain.” 

Certainly  I neither  heard  nor  coined  them.  The  mere 
turning  to  “ Webster’s  Unabridged  ” would  have  saved  me 
from  such  a blunder.  “ 0 ^’s  ” letter  seems  like  the  fruit 
of  a frequent  consultation  of  that  work,  the  learning  of 
which  maj'  be  had  by  any  one  in  a few  minutes  for  a few 
dollars,  even  in  a copy,  like  mine,  of  the  old  edition. 
To  say  nothing  of  knowledge,  I must  have  been  very 
lazy,  or  very  imprudent,  not  to  turn  to  that  cheap  “ cram,” 
if  I did  nothing  more.  I wrote  enquerir^  enclore^  and 
endosser 

* The  mode  and  spirit  of  this  critic’s  attacks  — I will  not  say  their  purpose,  for  I 
sincerely  believe  that  he  did  not  mean  to  be  dishonest  — may  be  inferred  from  the  fact 
that  he  again  held  me  up  as  a preteniious  ignoramus  because  in  the  passage  quoted 


APPENDIX. 


451 


Having  ruthlessly  shown  that  I know  nothing  of  Eng- 
lish, or  French,  or  ‘'^the  primary  principles  of  etyrpol- 
ogy,”  he  is  “ almost  tempted  ” to  let  me  oft'  without  fur- 
ther exposure.  But  an  opinion  I hazarded  upon  the  for- 
mation of  laughable  is  too  much  for  his  self-denial,  and 
he  says  of  me,  “//  a -perdu  son  latinl^  1 cannot  be 
sufficiently  grateful  for  the  tenderness  and  the  delicacy 
that  led  him  to  couch  in  a language  unknown  to  me  the 
terrors  of  the  sentence  it  became  his  duty  to  pronounce. 
But  the  designs  of  benevolence  are  sometimes  defeated, 
and  the  mysteries  of  learning  are  not  always  impenetra- 
ble. I have  discovered  — in  what  way  is  my  own  secret 
— that  the  meaning  of  this  awful  denunciation  is,  that  I 
have  lost  my  Latin.*  But  even  here  is  hidden  balm  ; even 
here,  benign  concession.  What  I have  lost  I must  once 
have  had.  I confess  that  I have  lost  something,  perhaps 
without  compensating  gain,  since  a body  of  learned  men 
sent  me  out  from  them  with  a certificate  that  I was  an 
ingenuous  youth,  of  faultless  morals,  imbued  with  humane 
letters.  (If  they  had  but  known  what  they  were  doing  !) 
But  nevertheless  I shall  endeavor  to  answer  these  abstruse 
questions : — 

“ I should  like  to  ask  Mr.  White,  first,  whether  he  knows  that 
f ideo  means  I latigh  at  as  well  as  I laugh  ; second,  whether  he 
does  not  know  that  adjectives  in  bills  are  sometimes  formed 

hom  “Gil  Bias”  (p.  321  of  this  volume)  sans,  te,moigna,  qii,  itait,  and  contente 
were  printed  in  “The  Galaxy”  dans,  tentoigna,  etait,  and  content.  It  would 
seem  that  a minute’s  reflection  would  have  shown  him  that  as  I roust  have  written  out 
the  passage  from  the  original,  I had  only  to  copy  the  letters  that  were  before  me,  and 
be  surely  correct,  even  if  I were  as  ignorant  of  French  aa  I am  of  the  language  of  the 
Man  in  the  Moon. 

* My  judge  does  not  quote  the  words  in  which  he  condemns  me,  perhaps  because 
he  assumed  that  all  his  readers  would  know  their  origin.  Of  this,  perhaps,  I alone 
tmong  them  am  ignorant.  The  earliest  use  of  the  phrase  that  I remember  is  in  the 
following  passage  of  the  “Recueil  General  des  Caquets  de  I’Accouch^e.”  1625. 

“ Que  voulez  vous  ma  Commere,  dit  une  Rousse  du  mesme  ca»-*ier,  ainsi  va  la  fortune, 
I’un  monte,  I’autre  descend : pour  moy  ie  ne  I’ay  iamais  esprouv>6  favorable  a mes  de- 
sirs,  i’ay  dix  enfans  en  nostre  logis,  dont  le  plus  grand  n’a  que  xij  ans,  il  me  met  hors  du 
sens,  i’avois  fait  venir  un  Pedan  de  I’Universite  pour  le  tenir  en  bride:  roais  il  y 
perdu  son  latin,  il  [s]  seront  en  fin  contraints  d’aller  demander  I’aumoMe  si  le  teiupS 
dure.”  — Z-a  Secondt  Journie,  p.  6a. 


452 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


from  the  stem  of  the  supine  as  well  as  from  that  of  the  present 
of  verbs ; third,  in  what  Latin  author  he  ever  found  the  noun 
risum,  meaning  a laugh  or  laughter;  fourth,  what  risibilis  means 
in  Latin.” 

I do,  or  did,  know  that  the  secondary  meaning  of  video 
is  to  laugh  at,  to  deride.  I do,  or  did,  know  that  adjectives 
in  hilis  are  not  only  sometimes,  but  often,  formed  upon  the 
stem  of  the  supine ; but  also  that  they  are  sometimes 
made  from  nouns.  Hisihilis  (which  I have  heard  it 
whispered  is  not  the  best  Latin)  is,  of  course,  the  coun- 
terpart of  7'isible^  or  was  when  I went  to  school ; and  as 
to  risum^  at  that  time  I met  with  the  following  line  in  a 
Latin  author  — Horace  — who  was  held  up  to  me  as  a 
poet  of  some  repute  : — 

“ Spectatum  admissi  risum  teneatis  amici.?” 

and  this  risum  I translated,  without  reproach,  “ laugh- 
ter ; ” parsing  it  as  the  accusative  case  or  objective  form 
of  risus.  Horace  asked  the  question  in  regard*  to  the 
picture  of  “ a meermaiden  vot  hadn’t  god  nodings  on,” 
which  some  Roman  Barnum  seems  to  have  exhibited  in 
the  Forum  ; but  it  has  since  been  applied  to  other  spec- 
tacles, as  “0  may  find  on  the  publication  of  tlie  next 
“ Round  Table.” 

It  is  upon  engrave^  however,  and  my  passing  assump- 
tion that  its  origin  is  en  and  grapJio^  that  your  corre- 
spondent lays  himself  most  largely  out,  here  seeming  to 
put  ah  that  he  knows  into  one  article  — something  I never 
do  if  I can  help  it.  To  prove,  what  I cast  no  doubt  upon, 
that  the  word  grave  is  to  be  found  in  Teutonic  tongues 
at  a period  before  the  revival  of  learning,  he  musters  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  the  Old  Saxon,  the  Frankish,  Swedish, 
Danish  and  German  forms  of  the  word.  Here,  indeed, 
is  an  immense  display  of  erudition  ; which,  alas  ! is  some- 
thing quite  beyond  me,  as,  again,  all  this  is  in  that  blessed 
and  wonderful  book  “ Webster’s  Unabridged,”  which  is  ii 


APPENDIX. 


453 


v^ery  present  help  in  time  of  trouble  to  gentlemen  who 
wish  to  appear  learned  in  etymology  — a book  which  I 
confess,  with  tears,  that  I have  shamefully  neglected,  ^nd 
with  a painful  sense  of  wasted  opportunities,  when  I see 
the  prodigious  erudition  that  its  perusal  has  developed  in 
the  other  boy.  I am  also  told  that  Chaucer  uses  grave 
in  such  phrases  as  “ some  men  grave  in  tre,”  which,  to  a 
man  who,  having  read  Chaucer  for  pleasure  from  his  boy- 
hood^ has  within  the  last  six  months  re-read  every  word 
of  him  and  of  Gower  carefully  and  critically,  is  valuable, 
nay,  invaluable  information. 

My  executioner  also  piously  finds  a grave  for  me  in 
sacred  ground  — Ulfilas’s  Mceso-Gothic  translation  of  the 
Gospels  — a very  interesting  and  philologically  instructive 
remnant  of  early  Christian  scholarship,  the  many  lacimce 
in  which  are  much  to  be  deplored.  But  the  example 
cited  by  “ 0 “ saei  grob  jah  gadiupida,”  is  not  the 

happiest  he  might  have  chosen,  as  it  presents  only  the 
strong  preterite  of  the  Moeso-Gothic  verb,  with  a change 
of  the  vowel.  The  following  seems  more  to  the  purpose  : 

graban  ni  mag,  bidyan  skama  mik”  Luke  xvi.  3)  ; i,  e.^ 
I may  not  dig,  to  beg  shames  me.  For  grave  seems  al 
ways  to  have  meant,  to  dig,  to  make  a hole,  to  scratch. 
Very  long  before  the  time  of  Ulfilas  and  his  Mceso-Goths, 
Homer  used  it  in  the  Iliad.  First  thus  : — 

“ Tpd^as  iv  TtivaKL  r:TVKT(p  0vp.o<pQ6pa  TroZXd.’*  — Z.,  1.  169. 

Here  yqbipag  nlv(xKt  means,  writing  upon  a tablet ; 
but  in  the  next  passage  in  which  grave  occurs,  it  means, 
to  scratch  deep,  to  wound  : — 

“ BXtjro  ydp  Sfiov  Sovpi,  Tzpocsoi  TeTpappivoi  aUi, 

''Akoov  iTTiXtyfiriv’  ypd’.pcv  o\  dcriov  d^pig 
Ai^prj  HovXvSapavTos.” — F.,  1*  599* 

Here  ygbufjsv  dh  ot  dcnaov  a/qig  means,  pierced  to  the 
bone.  Thus,  even  in  Greek,  to  write,  i.  e.^  scratch  in 
wax,  seems  to  6e  only  tlie  secondary  meaning  of  grave^ 


4-54 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


which  has  not  changed  its  signification  or  its  form  for 
three  thousand  years,  and  which,  in  my  ignorance,  I 
think,  went,  with  other  words  and  some  letters,  westward 
and  northward  through  Dacia  into  Western  Europe. 

]My  Greek  initialed  censor  says  I “ ought  to  have  known 
at  what  time  Greek  words  began  to  be  transferred  directly 
into  English.”  I confess  I ought,  for  I learned  it  long 
ago ; and  he  tells  me  that  in  the  year  1500  there  were 
probably  but  four  men  in  England  who  knew  anything 
of  Greek.  In  very  deed  I had  heard  something  of  this 
kind  before ; and  I connected  with  it  the  fact  that  the 
word  engi'ave  does  not  appear  in  English  before  that 
time.  The  old  English-formed  participle  grave7i  I know, 
but  the  English-formed  participle  engraven  I do  not 
know  in  literature  three  hundred  and  fifty  years  old.  I 
am  inclined  to  the  opinion,  not  only  grave  is  a direct 
descendant,  as  it  is  a perfect  counterpart,  of  ygdqxx),  but 
that  the  appearance  of  engrave  in  English  is  a conse- 
quence of  an  acquaintance  with  the  Greek  compound 
EyyQdq)oj;  just  as  (to  cite  an  extreme  case  in  illustration), 
although  we  find  asperge  in  French,  sparge7z  in  Old- 
German,  and  sperage  in  English  before  the  year  1500, 
asparagus^  not  known  in  English  before  that  date,  is  a 
direct  descendant  and  counterpart  of  the  Greek  ^(jnu.ga^(o^. 

The  editor  of  the  “ Round  Table,”  with  courteous  jus- 
tice, offers  me  the  opportunity  of  defending  myself.  Far 
be  it  from  me  to  do  so.  Rather,  lest  I should  be  justly 
placed,  to  use  the  words  of  my  accuser,  among  “ that 
large  number  of  persons  ” who,  “ in  this  country,”  “ get 
a reputation  for  learning  merely  because  they  have  the 
presumption  to  write  on  learned  subjects,”  let  me  at  once 
confess  my  utter  ignorance  of  the  subject  on  which  I have 
been  writing.  Yet  it  was  not  until  I had  read  the  “ Round 
Table  ” this  morning  that  I fully  appreciated  the  flagran- 
cy,  the  brazenness,  of  my  imposture.  Nevertheless,  may 
it  not  be  accepted  as  a plea  in  7nisericordiai7i  that  I make 


APPENDIX. 


455 


no  pretension  to  the  “ profound  learning  ” of  my  accuser, 
but  only  to  some  knowledge,  yet  very  imperfect,  of  the 
English  language? 

I have,  however,  managed  to  discover,  as  I think,  by 
the  aid  of  a gentleman  who  hath  the  tongues,  and  whose 
services  I have  secured,  at  an  enormous  expense,  for  this 
occasion  only,  what  the  Greek  characters  of  your  corre- 
spondent’s signature  “ 0 stand  for.  They  are,  prob- 
ably, I am  told,  the  initial  letters  of  OdQaog  MgxoIov^ 
meaning  fastidious  confidence,  or,  in  the  simple  English, 
more  becoming  to  one  like  me,  and  more  to  my  taste, 
peevish  boldness. 

Your  correspondent  has  now  the  field  to  himself. 
Having  confessed  all  that  he  has  accused  me  of,  I assure 
him  that  it  shall  be  his  fault  if  I trouble  him  hereafter. 
I am,  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

Richard  Grant  Whith. 

Bay  Ridgr,  Thk  Narsows,  L.  L,  March  i,  1869. 


INDEX 


A. 

A.,  broad  ah  sound  of,  62. 
abortive,  85. 
accommodated,  34. 
accouchement,  178. 
accountable,  228. 
a-doing,  343. 

Adjectives,  203. 
Adjectives  m en-,  259. 
adopt,  86. 
affable,  86.  ' 
aftermath,  387. 
after-thought,  387. 
againbite  of  inwit,  21. 
aggravate,  87. 
agree,  380. 
agreeable,  380. 
agriculturalist,  215. 
ah-am,  242. 
airs,  171. 
ale-house,  154. 
alike,  88. 

Alford,  Dean,  44. 
allude,  89. 
allow,  90. 
a-making,  343. 
amenities,  33. 

American  English,  8,  44. 
American  style,  47. 
anchorable,  225. 


and  so  forth,  209. 
animal,  91. 
answerable,  228. 
antecedent,  91. 
appear,  380. 

Apple,  378. 
apple-butter,  378. 
apple-john,  378. 
apple-slump,  378. 
approve,  380. 
apt,  92,  97. 

Aristotle,  356. 
arm,  380. 
armory,  132. 
article,  143. 
artist,  93. 
as,  136. 

Ascham’s  “ Schowimaster,”  344 

as  well,  184. 

ate,  143, 

authoress,  204. 

auxiliary  verbs,  310. 

available,  227. 

aviary,  132. 

awful,  162,  185. 

axed,  17. 

B. 

Bad,  242. 
bade,  120. 


457 


INDEX. 


458 

Bailey's  Dictionary,  365/ 
bakery,  132. 
balance,  94. 
banquet,  378. 
banquet-halls,  378. 
banqueting-room,  378. 
banting,  201. 
bar-room,  154. 

Barrow,  344. 
basin,  83. 
battlemented,  114. 
be,  242,  353. 
bear,  115. 
become,  124. 
beggary,  132. 
begun,  1 19,  120. 
being  built,  338. 
being  done,  7. 
belfry,  132. 
ben,  17. 

Beranger,  29. 
beseeched,  123. 
betide,  236. 
bidden,  120. 

Big  words  for  small  thoughts, 28. 

bindery,  132. 

bird,  231. 

bishop,  367. 

blacksmith,  387. 

blasphemy,  104. 

blew,  121. 

Bolingbroke,  340. 
both,  88,  261. 
bountiful,  94. 
bowl,  83. 
brazen,  259,  261. 
breakfast,  386. 
breakfast-room,  377. 
breakfast-time,  377. 
bren,  231. 
brew-house,  232. 


I brid,  231. 

I bring,  95. 

Briticisms,  borne,  183. 

British  English,  8,  44. 
broad  ah  sound  of  62. 

I brother,  23O. 

I bub,  230. 

bub  and  bubby,  230. 

Bunyan,  64. 
burn,  231. 
buttery,  132. 

c. 

Cablegram,  234. 

Calculate,  96. 
calibre,  97. 
cant,  85. 
captain,  152. 
caption,  98. 
captivate,  98. 
case,  317. 
casemated,  114. 
casuality,  229. 
casualty,  229. 
catch,  99. 
catched,  123. 

Caxton,  16. 
cerse,  231. 
character,  99. 
chastity,  100. 

Chaucer’s  “well  of  English  un- 
defiled,”  20. 
chemise,  176. 
child,  179. 

Christmastide,  236. 

Christtide,  236. 

Cicely,  230. 

Cicero,  27. 

Cis,  230. 

Cissy,  330. 


INDEX. 


459 


citizen,  loo. 
clarionet,  loi. 
clajen,  261. 
coldine,  213. 
comfortable,  223. 
commence,  185. 
common,  172. 
companionable,  223. 
complainable,  225. 
complete,  170. 

composite  character  of  Eng- 
lish, 393. 

compounds  with  prefixes  and 
suffixes,  379. 
compound  words,  386. 
confectionary,  132. 
confined,  178. 
conjunction,  324. 
connection,  133. 
conscience,  21. 
consider,  loi. 

Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  36. 
consummate,  102. 
contend,  141. 
continence,  100. 
continental  damn,  231,  394. 
Continentals,  396. 
controversialist,  215. 
convene,  103. 
conversationalist  215. 
convinced,  145. 
convoke,  103. 
cook-stove,  232. 
copper-smith,  387. 
copula,  355. 

Cotton’s  Montaigne,  345. 
counter-act,  387. 
counterfeit,  387. 
couple,  102. 
covetousness,  104.- 


cranberry,  378. 
crime,  104. 

criticism,  26.  » 

crockery,  132. 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  13. 

Crusoe,  Robinson,  372. 
currant,  378. 

D. 

Decimated,  105. 
defalcation,  106. 
default,  106. 
definitions,  368. 

Defoe,  372. 
despair,  2i6» 
diagrams,  223,  389. 

Dickens,  339. 

dictionaries,  authority  of,  366. 

Dictionaries,  English,  364. 

Dictionary,  Bailey’s,  364. 

Dictionary,  Johnson’s,  373. 

Dictionary,  plan  of,  384. 

did,  120. 

digged,  123. 

dining,  377. 

dining-room,  377. 

directly,  186. 

dirt,  106. 

dis,  379»  380* 

disable,  386. 

disagree,  380. 

disagreeable,  380. 

disappear,  380. 

disapprove,  380. 

disarm,  380. 

disease,  3S6. 

disinter,  386. 

disposable,  225. 

disremember,  150. 

dister,  386. 


INDEX. 


460 

distrust,  380. 
divine,  106. 
do,  120. 
dock,  107. 
donate,  205,  229. 
donation,  229. 
done,  120. 
done  gone,  350. 

Don  Quixote,  348. 
downward,  211. 
drank,  121. 
dress,  107. 
drive,  192. 
drunk,  121. 

E. 

Ecphractick,  382. 
editorial,  109. 
effectuate,  141. 
eg,  242. 
eggs,  17. 
ego,  242. 
either,  261. 

either  and  neither,  261. 
electropathy,  212. 
en,  239,  240. 
enceinte,  177. 
enclose,  206. 
endorse,  206. 
endure,  115. 

English,  composite  character 

393- 

English  Dictionaries,  364. 
English,  pure,  19. 

English  sentence,  280. 
enquire,  206. 
enthused,  207. 
epigram,  233. 
epigraph,  233. 
esquire,  109. 


L’etat,  c’est  moi,  250. 
etymology,  7,  279,  367,  390 
evacuate,  109. 
eventuate,  141. 
ever,  379. 
ever-acting,  379. 
evergreens,  216. 
ever-living,  379. 
ever-running,  379. 
every,  no. 
ewer,  83. 
example,  112. 
excellent,  112. 
except,  1 12,  216. 
executed,  in. 
exemplary,  112. 
exist,  306,  353. 
expect,  112. 
experience,  112. 
experienced,  113. 
experiment,  113. 
experimentalize,  214. 
exponential,  217. 
extend,  115. 
extraordinary,  279. 
eyren,  17. 

F. 

Fall,  369. 
fashionable,  223. 
father,  62. 
female,  179. 
female  relation,  134. 
fellowship,  209,  221. 
fetch,  95. 
fiddle-bow,  387. 
fiddle-stick,  387. 
fiddle-string,  387. 
figures,  389. 
first  rate,  257. 


INDEX. 


461 


flee,  1 15. 

Florio,  352 
flown,  123. 
fly,  II5- 
forcible,  223. 

Forster,  John,  48. 
forward,  21 1. 

Froude,  48. 

G. 

Gambling,  104. 
gat,  121. 
gender,  319. 

General,  152. 
gent,  21 1, 
gentleman,  180. 
get,  1 16. 

Gil  Bias,  321. 
glass,  62. 
go-cart,  232. 
gold,  372. 
golden,  259,  261. 
gold-smith,  387. 
good,  109,  242. 
goods,  143. 
gotten,  1 1 8. 
government,  296. 
governments,  203. 

Gower,  122. 
gown,  108. 
gram,  234. 

Grammar,  English  and  Latin, 
274,  276. 

Grammarless  Tongue,  295. 

graph,  234. 

gratuitous,  124.  . 

grocery,  132. 

groggery,  132. 

grow,  124. 

grown,  123. 


gubernatorial,  211. 
gums,  5. 

H. 

Hall,  Bishop, 340. 
have,  35,  117. 

Hawthorne,  46. 
head,  376. 
heart,  376. 
help,  125,  126. 
help-meet,  126. 
her,  246. 
hers,  246. 
herself,  251. 
himself,  247,  249 
his-self,  249. 

Hob,  230. 
honorable,  152. 
horse,  376. 
humane,  127. 
humanitarian,  127. 
hydropathy,  212. 

I. 

I,  242,  243. 

I am  going  to  town  to-morroW} 

305- 

I go  to  town  to-morrow,  305. 

ice-cream,  127. 

ice-water,  127. 

ich,  242. 

idleness,  105. 

ik,  242. 

ill,  109,  196. 

impassionable,  33. 

in’ards,  387. 

inaugurate,  34,  128. 

indorse,  129. 

I Indian-opathist,  212. 


462 


INDEX. 


infinitive  mood,  307, 
infirmary,  132. 
inllection,  2S0. 
influence  of  language,  5. 
initiate,  128. 
inmates,  129. 
inquirable,  225. 
inst.,  169. 
integritj,  33. 
inter,  386. 
intercess,  229. 
intercessed,  203. 
intercession,  229. 
intrinsecate,  221. 
introduce,  147. 
in’wit,  againbite  of,  21. 
irregular  orthography,  385 
iron-hearted,  372. 

Is  being  done,  334. 
ist,  214. 
it  is  me,  250. 
its,  241,  244. 
itself,  251. 
ize,  214. 

J- 

Jar,  82. 

jeopardize,  214. 

Jew,  130. 

Jewel,  Bishop,  339. 
jewelry,  13 1. 
jewry,  132. 

Joan,  230. 

Johnson,  Dr.,  340. 

Johnson’s  Dictionary,  373. 
joint-stock-company,  387. 
joint-stock-companyx  limited, 

387, 

Jonson’s  (Ben)  Grammar,  334. 
]ug,  82. 


(juvenile,  107. 
juxtapose,  258. 

K. 

King,  14. 
kinsman,  133. 
kinswoman,  134. 

L. 

Lady,  180. 
landed,  114. 

language,  influence  of,  5. 
last,  62. 

Latin  elements  of  modern  Eng-  ' 
lish,  20. 

Latin  sentence,  280. 
laughable,  223. 
laundry,  132. 
lay,  1 16,  134,  158. 
leaden,  259. 
leader,  109. 
leading  article,  109. 
leathern,  259. 
leave,  109,  134. 
leg,  181. 
leisurable,  223. 
lethal,  31. 

lexicon  of  a foreign  tongue,  384 

liable,  92. 

library,  132. 

lie,  1 16,  134,  158. 

like,  136,  138. 

likely,  92,  97. 

limb,  181. 

liveable,  228. 

live  through,  115. 

loan,  137. 

locals,  203. 

locate,  138. 


INDEX. 


463 


love,  118,  138, 
Lowell,  45. 
lui,  250. 
lui-meme,  250. 


M. 

Macaulay,  339. 

Mahan,  Dr.,  368. 
manufacturer,  139. 
marriageable,  223. 
marry,  139. 

Marsh,  46,  264. 

Maxima  debetur  puero  reveren- 
tia,  284. 
mealtide,  236. 
meet,  126. 
mention,  89. 
mew,  123. 
militate,  141. 
milk,  375. 

Milton,  340. 
mis,  379. 
misrecollect,  150. 
mistook,  120. 

Misused  Words,  80. 
Mohammedanism,  388. 
moi,  250. 
moi-meme,  250. 

Moll,  230. 
moneyed,  114. 
monogram,  233 
monograph,  233. 
monthly,  107. 

Mormonism,  388. 

Morte  d’ Arthur,  21a 
mow,  122. 
murder,  105. 
my-self,  249. 

28 


N. 

Nadir,  383.  ' 

nasty,  198. 
ne,  17. 

necessitate,  141. 
neighborhood,  172. 
neither,  261. 
newspaper,  4. 
newspaper,  English,  28- 
normal,  34. 

o. 

Oak,  372. 
oaten,  259. 
obituary,  107. 
objectionable,  223. 
obnoxious,  142.' 
observe,  142. 
obsoleteness,  385. 

6’evrtm,  120. 

oppose,  141. 

orthography,  279,  390. 

orthography,  irregular,  385. 

our,  246. 

ours,  246. 

ourselves,  249. 

outer,  170. 

out-take,  216. 

ovations,  86. 

over  the  signature,  190. 

overshoes,  5. 

P. 

Painter,  93. 
pants,  21 1, 
paragraph,  233. 

Parsons’s  lines  upon  a bust  of 
Dante,  289. 


INDEX. 


464 

part,  145. 
partially,  143. 
partly,  143. 
partook,  143. 
party,  143. 
pastor,  62. 
patron,  144. 
pea,  247. 
pell-mell,  145. 
perfect,  170. 
persuaded,  145. 
petroleum,  215. 
philosophic,  107, 
photogram,  234. 
piers,  107. 
piety,  150. 
pise,  247. 
pison,  246. 
pitcher,  82. 
place,  138. 
poetess,  204. 
point  of  view,  232. 
.polysyndeton,  382. 

Pope,  1 19. 
porringer,  83. 
portion,  145. 
posted,  129. 
pot,  82. 
pottery,  132. 
practitioner,  216. 
predicate,  6,  146. 
prefixes  and  suffixes,  com- 
pounds with,  379. 
present,  147. 
presidential,  217. 
preventative,  229. 
preventive,  229. 
proceed,  129. 
progress,  33. 
pronouns,  239. 
pronouns,  antiquity  of,  242. 


pronunciation,  391. 
proper  names,  388. 
prosody,  279. 
prove,  1 15,  1 18. 
proven,  118,  220. 
provincial  words,  388. 
prox.,  169. 

pueri  amabant  puellam,  2S1 
pure  English,  19. 

0, 

Quadriphyllous,  382. 
quite,  147. 

Quixote,  Don,  348. 

R. 

Railroad  Depot,  148. 
ratiocinate,  141. 
real  estate,  150. 
recollect,  150. 

• receptions.  86. 
recover,  129. 
recuperate,  129. 
regard,  102. 
relation,  133. 
reliable,  220. 
religion,  150.  . 

remit,  151. 

remorse  of  conscience,  3S 
repudiate,  129. 
reputation,  99. 
residence,  129. 
restive,  152. 
resurrected,  229. 
resurrection,  229. 
retire,  182. 
reverend,  152. 
ride,  192. 
right,  194. 


INDEX. 


465 


riparian,  216. 
Rob,  230. 
Robin,  230. 
rode,  121. 
rooster,  182. 
rose,  120. 
rubbers,  5. 
run,  369,  370. 


S. 


Sample-room,  7,  154. 
sanctuary,  129. 
sat,  134. 

Savage,  120. 
say,  89,  142. 

Scaliger,  27. 
school-books,  397, 
sea,  377. 
seasonable,  223. 
section,  155. 
see,  175. 
self,  248,  378. 
send,  151. 
sentence,  280,  355. 
set,  1 16,  134. 
settle,  138,  191. 
sew,  123. 

Shakespeare,  372. 
shall  and  will,  264. 
shamefaced,  230. 
shamfast,  230. 
she,  243. 
shew,  122. 
shined,  123. 
shirt,  176. 
shoe-horn,  233, 
short-cake,  378. 
should,  266. 
show,  122. 
shrubbery,  133. 


sick,  196. 

Sidney’s  Astrophel  and  Stella. 

290.  f 

signature,  over  the,  190. 
silvern,  261. 
silver-smith,  387. 
sin,  104. 

Sis,  230. 

Sissy,  230. 
sitten,  120. 
sit,  134,  156. 
six-hole  premium,  204. 
skedaddle,  242. 
slang,  4,  42,  85. 
slavery,  132. 
smock,  176. 
smuggling,  104. 
snew,  121. 
snown,  121. 
sociable,  161. 
social,  i6i. 
some,  251. 
sot,  157. 
sow,  122. 
special,  162. 
splendid,  162. 
stand-point,  231. 
state,  163. 
station,  149. 
stay,  197. 
steadfast,  230. 
stereogram,  234. 

Stern,  119. 
stop,  197. 
storm,  163. 
strake,  123. 
straw,  375. 
strawberry,  378. 
striae,  382. 
strike,  123. 
stonen,  261. 


466 


INDEX. 


stole,  120. 
style,  47,  63. 
suffer,  1 15. 

suffixes,  compounds  with  pre- 
fixes and,  379. 
suggest,  279. 
supervise,  129. 
supper-room,  378. 
supper-time,  378. 
suppose,  102. 

Swedenborgian,  388. 

T. 

Talented,  114. 

tangential,  217. 

tankard,  82. 

tavern,  154. 

tea,  163. 

teached,  123. 

tea-room,  377. 

tea-time,  378. 

technical  words,  382. 

technical  words  in  general  use, 

383- 

telegram,  233. 
telegraph,  233,  242 
tenses,  304. 
thalagram,  234. 
the  boys  loved  the  girl,  281. 
themselves,  247,  249. 
think,  102. 
those-sort,  168. 
threaden,  259. 
thrived,  123. 
through,  1 15. 
tid,  grund’s  no  in,  237. 
tider  you  go,  the  tider  you 
come,  235. 
tinker’s  damn,  396. 
time  and  tide,  235. 


toi,  250. 
toi-meme,  250. 

Tooke,  Horne,  358,  374. 

Tooke,  Horne,  on  vulgar  wordS; 

388. 

tooth-drawer,  377. 
tooth-filler,  377. 
toward,  2ii. 
to  wit,  309. 
transmit,  129. 
transpire,  6,  163. 
treasonable,  223. 

Trench,  364. 
trial,  215. 

Troilus  and  Creseide,  288. 
Trollop,  Anthony,  67. 

Trollop,  Mrs.,  67. 

Trooper’s  damn,  396. 
true-seeming,  216. 
truism,  168. 

trust,  380.  , 

trustworthy,  224. 
truth-like,  216. 
try,  1 15,  215. 
turgid  morality,  33. 

u. 

Ult.,  169. 
un,  380. 
uncouth,  387. 
undergo,  115. 
understonden,  17. 
unrepentable,  227. 
unsoft,  380. 
un-sound,  387. 
unsuit,  380. 
unwitty,  380. 
upward,  2ii. 
usage,  4. 
us-selven,  249. 
utter,  170. 


INDEX 


467 


V. 

Variance,  141. 

Venerable  Bede,  154. 
ventilate,  171. 
veracity,  171. 

Verb,  355. 

verbs,  auxiliary,  310. 
very,  182. 
vice,  104. 
vicinity,  171. 

violincello,  loi.  ' 

voices,  313. 
vraisemblable,  216. 
vulgar,  172. 
vulgar  words,  387, 

w. 

Wanhope,  216. 
wash-tub,  232. 
waxen,  259. 
way,  148. 

Webster,  Daniel,  46. 
well  of  English  undefiled,  2a 
were,  35. 
wharfs,  107. 

whatever  is,  is  right,  15, 
wheaten,  259. 
white-smith,  387. 
widow-woman,  172. 
witness,  175. 
woman,  179. 


Women’s  style,  66. 
wooden,  371. 

word  can  have  but  one  real 
meaning,  389. 
word,  definition  of,  199. 
words  arbitrary  sounds,  13. 
Words  that  are  not  words,  199. 
words,  compound,  386. 
words,  provincial,  388. 
words  formed  upon  proper 
names,  388. 
would,  266. 


Y. 

Yarnen,  26t. 

Yo  el  Rey,  250. 

Young’s  “ Night  Thoughts.” 
360. 

z. 

Zenith,  383. 
zeolitiform,  382. 
zinkiferous,  382. 
zinky,  382. 
zocle,  382. 

zoophytological,  382* 
zumosimeter,  382. 
zygodactylous,  382. 
zygomatic,  382. 

&c.,  &c.,  208. 


THE  END. 


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